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Autobiography At An Air-Station

Delay, well, travellers must expect

Delay. For how long? No one seems to know.

With all the luggage weighed, the tickets checked,

It can't be long… We amble too and fro,

Sit in steel chairs, buy cigarettes and sweets

And tea, unfold the papers. Ought we to smile,

Perhaps make friends? No: in the race for seats

You're best alone. Friendship is not worth while.

 

Six hours pass: if I'd gone by boat last night

I'd be there now. Well, it's too late for that.

The kiosk girl is yawning. I fell stale,

Stupified, by inaction - and, as light

Begins to ebb outside, by fear, I set

So much on this Assumption. Now it's failed

Written by
Philip Larkin
1922-1985 / Male / English
Lines·Words
14·116
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