I was made redundant today after twenty years with the same company and am travelling on a later train feeling rather sad

A hoodie is playing his rap music loudly to the displeasure of others in the crowded carriage

Nobody challenges him

I wish I had a Bowie Knife so that I could cut his vacant throat

But I find myself enjoying his music

Having located the rhythm beyond the beat

The rapper alights at Thatcham and the carriage regains its former chatter

I feel my own silence

I have not spoken for over an hour

Today is the final day of September

The sky has darkened considerably but the horizon still betrays the setting sun

Shadows come and go and vanish into the night

As they do at this time of year

On the carpeted floor hindered by my feet

There are two carrier bags

Full of my former possessions

A pink plastic fan

Two or three paperback books

Four china cups

One much stained

It is an elderly cup having seen more than fifteen summers

But its cracks are slowy betraying it

We arrive at Newbury

I send a text to my wife

Home In twenty sadder but wiser

She does not reply

Her phone is spent

It is tired

As the year is tired

It is searching for sleep

As we all are

Dull Kintbury quietly passes

I hardly notice it

But I wave to the crossing keeper

As I always do

We arrive at Hungerford

The station is surprisingly busy

I run my fingers through the dying Buddleja

Its small flowers are past their sell by date

The butterfly bush is seeking rest

But has not found it

Everything is fading except me

For I am Superman

Just Superman

And the good guys always win