Sat on my bag,
In a dusty station, waiting
For a bus that never comes,
Watching time drag,
And twiddling my thumbs.
Patience, you are a stranger,
What other virtues, have I lost
In the West?
Do I court danger, with my machines,
GPS and texts.
The cost of now, now. now,
Is time and thought.
Immediacy has no future,
I have been bought.
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