Nowhere Street Poem by Tom Seymour

Meet you in the light of nowhere street,
From the moving steps of grey metal sheets,
The crush of loners or lover’s heat,
Of directions, maps and emergency signs,
And endless silent meet and greets.
I’m dressed to the nines in costume clothes,
Designed to hide the kind of half-truth,
That the deadline closed,
We missed our connection,
The train on its own line, different times,
Same station.
And now I face a rejection,
And the cancer of hopeful wonder.
My innermost crimes acted out,
From the hideous to the sublime,
The reverie of this divide.
I meet you now on nowhere street,
For our own silent meet and greet,
And already I feel the specter,
Of my own silent retreat.

August 09, Waterloo Station.