A Morning in Holyhead Railway Station (20/08/92)

The train pulls in.
I am cold.
It is night.
The walls are white.
The free bus departs in fifty minutes.

I stand waiting.
I am bored.
It is late.
A girl sleeps near.
She has a good idea but theft I fear.

Another comes.
She's German.
There is a spare seat in her car.
She needs to fill it.
She asks me thrice.
I have my ticket.
She is unlucky.
She is a nice girl.

A train stands in platform 3.
I wish it was the free bus.
Why did I come here?
I ask myself.
I can't think of anything better.

The clock ticks by.
I notice more.
They are out of sync.
Only a second.
I am bored.

I start to sing.
The girl still sleeps.
Half an hour.
Nothing doing.
The place is full.
Another train comes.

My watch beeps.
It feels louder than a train.
It is past two.
No reaction.
Scooby-Doo.
(I saw it several hours ago).
It plays in my brain.

I don't want to die here.
Of boredom.
No chance of excitement.
Even the town is boring.

Quarter-Past.
Pause.
Quarter-Past.
Pause.
Quarter-Past.
Longer pause.
Sixteen-Past.
I watch the clocks with interest.
Less than a quarter to go.

All around are talking.
I am alone.
I am bored.
I cannot sleep.
The train in platform 3 has not moved.

The clocks tick round.
Twenty-Seven.
I am bored.
I walk out to the bus stop.
I forget how heavy my two bags are.

The bus is late.
I am outside.
I am bored.
I am even colder.
But at least I've left the station.

At last.
The bus comes.
We are crowded.
I am free.
Dublin here I come!!!

Since boredom is quite difficult to quantify
In such Free Verse like this, I hope you like my try.
I hope this poem was successful in it's aim
Of boredom, and I hope I didn't work in vain.

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