Axelinn

People don't come here anymore Not like they used to They speed by on their cars, On their motorbikes and trucks and vans Nobody sees me now Sometimes I stand by the train tracks, Waiting for a friend But not even the trains come here any more I once saw a person Out on the street without a car or a van or a truck They were walking by the bridge I tried to talk to them but they couldn't see me Maybe it was too dark? Then they disappeared and started painting the train tracks After that, nobody came They sped by even faster than before Like they were scared But what's to be scared of? It's only me here And the pretty, new

There is a knock at the door. For a moment I sit there, light from the TV shining against my face. It's a nice night; not warm, not cold, but if I go outside it smells of stars. I shudder, stand. Knock, knock, knock. Two fast, three slow, playing to a tune in my head. Two fast, three slow. Two fast... I grin wryly, retreating to the kitchen. The TV is blaring, the kettle is whistling and my hands work automatically. My thoughts are miles away, years behind me, days in front of me. I stop and for a moment, all I see is a supernova of colour. Two fast, three slow, there is a knock at the door. Clutching a cup of coffee I curl into the co