Livin' ina Aucklan'
all too soon it is over
stepping down on to the platform
(an almost perfect concrete curve of old-world technology)
and watching the train move away towards the west
like a memory of love
a railway is the most melancholy of transport modes
and when you are aboard
the motion is one of subtle love-making
– as the train pulls out
from the station you stepped down at . . .
it is your lover leaving, rolling down the track
all this on a two minute trip to Avondale
but I defend the suburban services
saying romance is not confined to the Orient Express
and Mount Albert is as important as Montmartré
if you live there
once new and unknown
love is like a railway ticket held in my hand
but it has been clipped
as I stand alone on wind-swept Avondale platform
watching the train pull out of the station, I . . .
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