Head down; up; down; up – baggage-rest,
on th’café’s cushioned seats (maroon),
makes makeshift pillow; shattered-sleep
in restsome snatches stolen.
A tabletop turned littered scene
of packets (Pringles); glasses drained –
they’ve sat with spirits (high [enough…]).
Their youngest w’thout backrest!
Phones flickering through signal – surge,
then valleyed-depths connectionless!
Chitchatt’ring common-ground smalltalk
about the high-stood planks.
They’re off! They’re gone! Away! Alone
their seats – long-held – in tableau tell
of th’storm of disrupture. The trees
outside withhold their felling (f’now…).
Now nearly night, our fam’lee fight
the drain – exhaustive. Journey’s end
doth stretch on; on anon, finite…
Def’nutlee finite… Def’nutlee…
Image credit – CN Traveller
william altoft 