Even stations move.

Can I meet you fifteen years ago
by the sprung chainlink?

We could watch together those ever-afters
waiting for a platform. The go-ahead
and they’re polite about it.

Sandstone dust, or not now the long settled past –
construction grit in a suspension of air.

I could meet you fifteen minutes ago
at the same coordinates.
I’m watch-wiping on the interim platform.

For once I’m not about
to be all that late,
give or take, and if you’d show up
not even half apologising (not that you – )
between yesterday and now, or simply tomorrow
I’d class that on time.