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Man on Train


He is watching me watching the sea
Drinking Strongbow from a can
While I write erotic poetry
Across the table
And try not to judge him
For the same things I despise in myself
His phone rings
It’s a silly tone
And we get talking
He’s nice
Of course he’s nice, I judge myself
For judging him, my shiny
Blade of aggression
Always closest to hand
Well worn and bloody
Well not this time
I’m done with hacking bits off myself
And the nice man on his way to Aberdeen
Is just the beginning

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