The tendrils of the city

                                      Are the first signs of change

                                      From pleasant countryside.

                                         Suddenly the train

                                       Is racing cars and trucks

                                   The tempo of life subtly increases

                                        Then houses appear

                                       Mountains of rusting cars

                                       Power poles and towers

                                        Grey fences of graffiti.

                                        Corrugated buildings

                                       Graffittied to eye height.

                                      Stacks of weathered timber

                                      Gravel, bitumen, concrete

                                     Suburban boxes, mile on mile,

                                       Havens from the storm

                                         Or storm centres?

                                       A narrow strip of green

                                         Half a dozen trees

                                      A poor park for the poor.

                                       Shopping Malls, huge,

                                       Sprawling, anonymous,

                                      Places to shop, accumulate

                                       With hidden desperation.

                                     Bowling greens, golf courses

                                     Parked cars in concrete pens

                                     Wild animals caged and safe.

                                    The speed of the train picks up

                                        As if it senses home.

                                     It crosses rivers and creeks,

                                    Passes huge, enormous ugliness

                                    Of human excrement and waste,

                                         On to a destination

                                         Past building sites

                                        And mounds of earth.

                                      A school, children in blue

                                      Shady green playground..

                                         Some future hope?

                                            Of what?

                                         The pace quickens

                                       The buildings rise higher

                                      The signs bigger, brighter,

                                        A bedlam of rail lines

                                     Glass, steel, angles and curves

                                      Claustrophobic monoliths.

                                       Scurry, hurry, little ants!

                                     Home to your box, your nest.

                                   People and cars jostle each other

                                       What are they afraid of?

                                         Peace and quiet?

                                            Serenity?

                                        Oh city, Oh monster!

                                       What have you in store

                                         For train and me?

 
Dawn McDonald
© March 2005

Music from Tablemaster