Art, Poetry/Prose

Visual prompt exercise: Dubai Metro Stop Interior


Photo/art credit–mine

Did her feet ever touch the stairs?

City life. Pure flight. Ethereal.

A high-speed chase–Houdini’s escape, from nobody, from nothing, but the time he never will.

In no language, in no words, she heard a sharp announcement “it’s 3:03.”

It continued:

“That thing is automatic; it spits you out, like coins along the tracks.”

“But I’m not a coin!” she howled.

Inspired by deafening traffic.

Her inner poet laughed:

“What are any of us doing here? Funneled from place to place, tower to tower–spanked by the hand, that sweeps the marks, between the hours.”




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