Aristotle could not touch

two men on a train

milking their amber wisdom.

​

I was going to change the world 

I told you that

but oh, how the world spun,

hurtled through its axis

and rushed half-dreams were passed

in trodden pursuit

of neat, fenced, street.

​

But mate, the world's a bastard.

Hotel suites and company cars accepted,

Ghandi agenda was not.

​

As those hands ticked 

yours became golden-banded

and held the newborn possibility that you would soon dampen -

"Don't burn too bright!"

 

And now

on a train at midnight

with the new light calling

and brogue-studded city falling behind,

they laugh.

​

We will shortly be arriving

but I say where?

too late, my philosophers have gone

the train keeps moving

to predestined home.

​