Thursday, February 7, 2008
Prisoner and escort
glide into the rooftop station,
as train wheels screech
with sympathy against the check-rails.
clad in clothes of a previous era,
he meets the distant American
and is barely allowed to speak.
doing well at a good school,
there to be admired, prodded,
and maintain the fantasy.
pushed to the plate's edge
provokes colonial comment:
'You don't like fat? It's good for you.'
are all the bloody same:
'It's good for you';
'You can't go to London in those trousers'.
his sentence will be over,
and he can start to look for who he really is.
If it's not too late.