Monday Morning Platform Poetry #2

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Monday Morning Platform Poetry #2

The ticket machine is having a bad morning
A vacant expression upon its face
It is moaning quietly to itself in the corner
Considering getting out of this place.

But, though it has all the tickets
To all the destinations,
It’s roots are here
And it’s going to stick around
A while longer;
It doesn’t really have a say.

And, as a procession of commuter types approach in hopes
And turn in resignation,
The ticket machine continues to moan quietly
Not issuing, but frowning
Dwelling upon the career path chosen for it
By those who have the third rail power

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