Death doesn't make up

I woke up earlier this morning and
- and that explains why I shouldn't
but ended up there, at the station,
standing next to that
man.
His eyes were undone, he had the absent face of those
who have seen and been too far.
For a moment he looked at me,
He singularly looked at me, he had on
the look of a cold and stale potato.
- I had woken up earlier
I bathed in the strangeness of the ahead -
One, two
- the door opened and the tiger leapt
the train approached and the guy dived.
He dived with the heaviness and the disgrace
of a potato bag,
the train smashed him that way.
A girl screamed, a man cursed, I
didn't move nor speak for what
it seemed an eternity.

Fifteen years later, I know

Death wakes up early
and doesn't make up to look at you.