There’s little consolation, when you’re standing in the station
and the train you hoped to catch has just departed.
Then due to hesitation, you’ve quite lost your motivation
(and the day ahead has hardly even started!)

There’s vague intimidation when your thoughts and concentration
are disturbed by loud anonymous recordings.
You squint with expectation, then increasing sheer frustration
as you realize you can’t read ads on hoardings.

Then firm self-castigation that you’ve planned your destination
but you’re late upon the platform in the morning,
and total consternation at the added complication
you’re not quite awake and find you can’t stop yawning.

You attempt mastication, then you reach realization
that your false teeth are still soaking in suspension.
And there’s no compensation for the unique weird sensation
that you’re ‘starkers’ and this was not your intention.

You feel some obligation when a porter at that station
wraps you in a sheet and slows your pulse from racing.
His tough determination brings forth your grim proclamation
that you’re ‘middle-aged, worn out and need replacing.’

There’s total desolation, when you reach the police station
and a Sergeant finds you guilty without speaking.
You feel deep indignation and you plead, in mitigation,
that most nights you ‘sleep-walk, but aren’t known for streaking.’

There’s endless jubilation when you’re released on probation
after serving only half your prison sentence.
Now without hesitation or the slightest deviation
you’ve resolved one hundred and one grand intentions.

For there’s every consolation to be gained from preparation
for a railway trip. With every year that passes,
ensure self-preservation is your main consideration.
If you sleep-walk, wear to bed clothes, teeth, and glasses!

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