so hot and dry my throat sticks
the soft walls coated by mucus by dust

I am the giant letters IŁAWA GŁÓWNA
the ashen glow of sodium lamps
the loud buzz of a fluorescent tube in the corridor

I am the mumbling of a hippie demanding
three thousand zlotys for a cup of tea
because the pigs only just let him go

I am the pigs on the platform hunched in the wind
eyes red from lack of sleep
chins tucked in the collars of their uniforms

I am the iron-gray river under the bridge
I am the clatter of a train on the bridge's grid
I am a mercury vapor rising above the fields

I am the broken window a trip without a moral
I am the broken window that lets the fog
seep in, I am the clatter, the travel, the night