one train trip, two overheard conversations

CityStationImpressionist.jpg.jpg

First: going.
Her teeth tormented, fillings
eroded, dentists
derided, money stolen
by her schizophrenic
boyfriend she said
would be better off
dead. He’d punched
her belly, busted
ribs, listened to
voices, and ran
away from what
he thought she’d
said.
Second: return.
They talked dresses;
Platonic ideal, not
multiples.
One suggested a
dressmaker copy
to revision black as
blue. The identical other
responded, pronounced her
view, and words
uttered grew to
spiralling sand
drifts, unfettered by
meaning. Each in turn
spoke. Lookalike,
phatic, keening
ensued as,
tendrilled by
train currents,
the other’s breath
blew.
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