Morning train

The city would swell in the morning sounds of a train
As it reaches from an outer waiting to the inner yard
With station birds scaring the train away by shrieks.
The auto-rickshaws splutter with suitcases dragging
On their castors, their owners' female shoes clicking
On  asphalt ,a sleep hunger yawning in their mouths.

Here there are no buzz-bee bags hanging on the side
Or kaleidoscopic glass on the wall in a morning light
And  dark buffaloes on calm rounds of cud chewing.
The milk is not of  kindness and has a rich fat content.
The trees will sleep in the day drugged with  gasses.
By evening their throats are lined with  diesel  fumes.

Bleary eyes open the door to  sleeping milk packets
And a roll of newspaper flung expertly by a paper boy.
The  paper roll says on top that  the train did not arrive
Even in the outer yard and  rickshaws did not splutter.
Female shoes did not click on the asphalt or in yawns.

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