ON A TRAIN STATION, DREAM

Small, bent over, gray,

I’m sitting with arms crossed

on my luggage.

I ask nothing of no one.

Wait for no one.

I don’t know where I’ve come from

nor where I’m going.

In the trunk are my books,

in the suitcase my shirts.

I packed everything I had.

On my head I wear

a cap of many colors,

my great pride and joy.