Rapid Transit

It was late that day when idle travel took us,
Wearily through the crowds which scattered,
Silently before us, all seeming deaf and blind,
Visible as if existing just a second later.

And the train pulled out, a tired drag ahead,
Through the mess of fussy yards and waste ground,
The city's dust and mire swept away and seen,
By only travellers, high on that scrubby bank.

Then the suburbs fell away and that second,
Caught us; instantly in countryside, we stirred,
And raised ourselves against the grimy window,
Rain-marked with the dunes wind-blown from Africa.

In my head, I idly plugged our speed into Lorentz,
And came up presently, with tiny shifts in time,
That made real and clear our imminent arrival,
Ahead of other copies of ourselves in space.

Non-stop, through the ethered land, our magic train,
Shrank distances, obeyed the laws of physics,
And set us down, to weave dreamily across the rails,
Up the steps, our tickets uncollected at the barrier,