Written by Randy W. Plym

on platform eleven

people stretch into gum strings;

heat throbs, smoke curls, magma rises

like the whole station will –

Bahnhof people, shelf-kept people,

past-expiration-people,

people waiting for their number

like bingo cards without bingo.

The edges have always melted first;

the hem has always frayed first.

A man argues with the wall

while pigeons eat pizza and die

and teenagers line up for falafel.

People that language forgot,

people like jokes without punch lines,

a man with a toy train labeled

“not for sale” rolls his marbles

in a lasagna tray, rolls his –

The gum snaps.

Saint Paul falls from his horse. A man claps

with his feet. The vending machine steams

my macchiato, and the world

is as it’s always been: upside down.

Mothers tighten their children’s hoods,

a thousand tickets for a thousand destinations.

Text © Randy W. Plym

Edge of Humanity Magazine’s

FREE Projects & Other Services

To Promote Works From Artists,

Photographers, Poets & Writers

PHOTOGRAPHY BOOK, SHORT STORIES & MUSIC Recommendations

FREE Platform For Artists NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY

In The Mind Of An Artist

Open Submissions for Writers & Poets

Photo Curator

PRESS RELEASE On Edge of Humanity Magazine

Photography Articles