Everybody at Glenfield is a doppleganger
Maybe you see them standing around a couple of times
Sleepy evils replacing themselves
Alone in the morning, bereaved of their lives
Toeing the braille-yellow line and
Contemplating the empty corridor as the floodwaters fall
Bad omens.
Then you die.

And you wait because
Old Mate’s stuck on a train
Between Wynyard and Circular Quay
Watching replacement ferries prod their darlings
He’s shoulder-to-shoulder and all elbows
His grain scythe is a bicycle
He’s blocking the stairs and blasting trap music
He smells like a century egg and he can’t get to work
Because today someone tapped off for the final time
$6.78. And you wait.