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Night Train (1959)

In my unruly teens
slept in a bed
which was barely a fit
for the box room.
Kitted out with a Dansette,
three Elvis L.P.’s
and a ceiling to floor
photo of Bridget Bardot,
before which
I’d get down on my knees.
Some nights I would be woken
by the deep rhythmic sound
of the “Royal Scotsman”,
hurtling past the mid distant rec.,
heading for Glasgow.
I can’t be certain
yet am fairly sure
steam blew through my room.
Sparks rained down like stars
upon my counter pane.

2 Mar 18

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