From Tom Thomson in Purgatory, published by Exile Editions in 2007.

That train’s not run here for a thousand years.”

(He means a hundred, maybe?) “They still sell

 the tickets at the station, though, if any-

 one would like a useless souvenir . . .”

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 And Tom is tempted: he do love useless things.

 Remind him, they, of someone he knows well.

 His wallet’s stuffed with currency from all

 manner of countries not in business now;

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 his camera aches for discontinued film.

 (Ditto his typewriter & its odd ribbon.)

 And all his maps are maps of continents

 that sank without a trace some time ago,

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 flora and fauna gone extinct, extinct

 as Tom himself feel he must surely go.

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