I can remember on a wet evening <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In Hastings <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Retiring into an obscure cinema <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched a film about trains <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And fell in love with an android <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have not scripted this poem <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It has a past but no future <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The thing that I like about androids <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Is that they lack emotions<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As they are machines (are they) after all<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hostess on my train is called Laura <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(do you see the connection)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She drifts from carriage bringing refreshments <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask for a kiss she slaps my face and then kisses me <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She is not programmed for anything else<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She is not programmed for anything else but to serve <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Trains are time Trains are time Trains are Time <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This poem does not have a future it has a past <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It has no script I do not script my poems <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I experience my poems I live my poems <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Here I am on a train in an aqua seat <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Being served by an android named Laura <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her uniform is red as her lips <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her hair is black as her shoes <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyes are sad like mine <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(green brown\/black on black)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask for a copy of the timetable <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There is no timetable <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I feel that my coffee has been drugged <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I am very tired and the night is a blur <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Laura shows me to my bunk and I fall asleep <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I dream about this journey <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I dream about Laura <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I dream about trains <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I dream about finishing this poem <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Which has a past but no future <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(You have visited the past) <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wake up with a start <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am still on the train <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We are travelling at a very high speed <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I find Laura sitting in a vestibule <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Near an open door <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask her to retire<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From the present danger <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(she has tears on her face)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
(androids are emotionless) <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(androids are programmed)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We are in a tunnel a long tunnel <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is screaming in vacancy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside the released door<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask Laura not to destroy herself <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She tells me that she is programmed <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To destroy herself if she falls in love<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask her to recline in the bunk opposite me <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She declines <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I close the door <\/p>\n\n\n\n
(Drama) <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Laura is looking into my eyes <\/p>\n\n\n\n
A hint of a smile crosses her lips <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neon night lights <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Are activated as we are passing through borders <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lights remain extinguished <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This poem has a past but no future <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ask Laura to join me in my bunk <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She accepts and removes her name badge <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And is deactivated limp in my arms <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hold her name badge <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sense that she wants to rest<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This poem has come to an end <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It has no future <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I can remember on a wet evening In Hastings Retiring into an obscure cinema I watched a film about trains And fell in love with an android I have not scripted this poem It has a past but no future The thing that I like about androids Is that they lack emotions As they are […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13073","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13073","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13073"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13073\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13081,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13073\/revisions\/13081"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13073"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13073"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13073"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}