S. Rabbani: literary fiction, instructional articles, essays & translations
[home]         [about]         [links]

The Last Train to Finchley Road

By Sahand Rabbani


Light, soporific turbulence
Extinguishes the child's sorrow
As an exhausted father counts the dots
To Finchley Road
Along the banner above the sliding doors.

A silk red tie hangs loose around an enervated neck
That belongs to a tuxedoed man
And his slackened pride.

Lonely grandmother of seven holds in her lap
An imitation purse of leather and fabric, a gift from
Her second daughter.

Ragged is the man who makes the underground
His home,
And the momentary comfort of the train's bench
His bed.

The last train stops at Finchley Road
As it has most days in the memories
Of those who are relevant.

The doors open and close
And the recording plays
Like it has most days in the memories
Of those who are relevant.

But the passengers sit unflinchingly.

All who live near Finchley Road
Are either home already,
Away for the night,
Or will find another ride home.









Copyright © 2017 Sahand Rabbani
All rights reserved.