Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Back broken and shattered in the station,
All my trains had left and I was between vehicles.
You haven’t lived until you’ve died and been buried:
Stared the crying man in the face and called his name.

But you look all right in this jumbled mind and cracked glass
So passengers ask how you are and expect a reply.
I had none left to give, but could always smile:
Spin them the game and say what they wanted to hear.

Did you find the last petrol stop because I never did?
Been running on empty since I got scared and ran.
Locked in this twisted metal and rubber booted box
At the halfway house between here and nowhere.

All melted in hot summer with the windows down,
If I sat in the fridge would it make me solid and dependable?
I would travel by public transport like the poor if it helped,
Tell the driver my destination - so at least he would know it.

Said good-bye to old clear head and sleeping nights,
I could get used to bikes if it made things any better.
Not too many expectations that have to be delivered -
Glad for what you get if your man arrives on two wheels.

What do you do when your options for local travel fade?
You need to see the world to keep you in order.
I grasp at old timetables in my shabby waiting room
Sit cursing the thoughts that rescinded my tickets.

But I can’t blame locomotion for all of my problems:
Years take some of the load, and growing up as well.
I’ll stay inside for the moment, try not to fall anymore.
I was glad to walk once and will be glad to do so again.