http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Now, I dare say we are all heroes, each in our own way, if only for just for getting on
with the business of everyday living.
We all
need heroes to inspire us, and where we can’t find any to tick our particular
boxes, the chances are we'll invent them.
HEROES or IMAGINATION, A (FREE) TICKET TO RIDE
Every
morning I’d watch them
run for
the train,
catch it
with seconds to spare
then
relax in my seat,
wondering
just who they were
and if
they were lovers
or
friends, maybe neighbours
but, no,
there was more
to the
way they ran for the train
than met
the eye,
the
reason why easy to tell
because
their faces
were
alive, not like those others
I saw
every morning
on the
6.15 to a bread factory
that
could even have given
bodies in
a mortuary a good run
for their
money
Always
late, never out of breath,
leaping
aboard,
straight
into fantasies I’d weave
around
them;
no
ordinary pair (yes, definitely
a pair, I
was sure)
they
would be living the high life,
burning
the candle
at both
ends, night after night,
(so
always late)
then
they’d fall into bed, take sex
for a
heady trip…
heading
for the surreal, shades
of a
looking-glass war
while
ordinary folks like me just
don’t
have the bottle
(or the
money) it takes for drugs
so we’ll
play safe
Divine
looks, designer gear, it was
too much
to bear
each
morning on the way to work
where I
don’t want to be
so all
the more reason to enjoy
my little
fantasy…
about
heroes of the 6.15 who were
always
late,
their
brief (like gods) to make
their own
fate,
have the
world turn on such beauty
it did
not deserve,
making an
open declaration of sorts
about a
politics of heart,
body and
soul that even the worst
of
temporal measures
fail to
have put down, rogue traders
going for
the jugular
One day,
they just missed the train;
no heroes
after all, only human
[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
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