The waiting room
is full of faces that have 
given up everything
The skin is oozing and 
the ground has vanished
Hanging crooked in a funny way 
a snowy wall clock frozen
from the beginning of time
moves its hand
shiver upon shiver

What platform is this?
asks an impassive faceless old man
and goes away
He doesn’t want to go anywhere
yet he asks apropos of nothing
smiles a crooked smile
and sends others from here
to somewhere far away

Right then a busy train
comes hurtling down
whistling its way
into the station
It is loaded with
blue impassive faces
lost in a stony swoon
and blue eyes staring
into a blue cipher
The blue train slides away
over the blue tracks
in the blue cold

Panting and puffing
I reach the waiting room
What platform is this? he asks
and goes away snickering
into the blue fog
There is no ground to stand upon… 
The waiting room is empty
Putting on a blue face
you’ve gone on that busy train
I am calling out for you nonstop
searching for that lap
which cherishes my childhood
I am searching that voice
calling out to me
I am seeking that heart
in which I lay in peace
until now 

I am looking for you
Mausi
Wherever you could have been
there is a blue stony silence there
a cipher lingering after mourning