Written Work

Walk to Cascais Railway

Horizon glow, I tread tarmac downward, wind ruffles hair damp to dry.
The fallen pine cone lying in airs of musty ever-green,
Bubble gum floral and wood smells linger.
I whisper ignored ‘hello woof’ to fur pressing gate in twitch alert slumber,
Barrio Rosario’s empty villas sprinklers defy drought giving wild rabbits lawn.
Sound patterning punctuated by owl hoot and birds sing-song,
While Wring-Their-Necks shriek I cross lit oil stains on garage forecourt,
Now Feathers crows hoarse to his hens.
Laranja negatives of space, I step on drawn tree trunks Modernist,
Upon greasy paving then blinded as snap off go street lights that shone.
Rangy toms straight ahead stare quizzical, start over walls and through 3D holes, No purrs or strokes …
they and me and the sweepers are strays too,
Walking in fabric conditioners’ inspirations.
Wandering the suburban wilderness.
Dreaming of the cat nap soon I might blink greetings to a shop’s tabbies
Who comfy on stool or tapestry chair make oblivious backs to me.
Tread careful on steeper, ironic ice rink cobbles gleaming,
Past lemon geraniums I ascend as un-roosting sparrows chirp ‘wake ups’
As gulls scream above.
I reach the station, my pass pings green at the barrier,
Transports like teleport ships passing in the dawn
Of ashen-faced clubbers and workers alike, sun rises,
I sip water and blow nose in air-con chill my cheek settles.
Eyelids droop as the lullaby from Portuguese into English soothes …

‘The train to _ Cais do Sodre on platform number Three _ is about to depart_ It calls at __ all stations’

Todas is context in the language of poets.

© 2017-18 Debra Fear, All rights reserved

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