(*A poem written for a friend.)
Quick, hop on!
This gravy train is exhausting but we've got to get aboard.
The ticket I've got says: To Ride.
It's not lost on me. That.
As the carriage I'm in clacks on the rails
A woman appears on the seat opposite mine.
Though, she's not really there.
I see her through ether.
Like the music in her head I have to imagine, and to feel and hope.
I can't be bothered!
But the show must go on.
The ticket guy comes,
When he punches the hole in the ticket I hold it up to my eye.
In the light that glimmers through, there is a vista I like,
Where there are no trains, but motorbikes.
There I'll be free,
There I can Zoom,
But, not with Bridezilla.