You've told me you want my words.
Then take them, please.
I don't want them anymore.
The way they stick
in my throat
like razorblades.
They way they scream at me
from behind closed eyes.
I can't stand it.
I don't want this.
They keep talking
talking
talking.
But no one's listening.
They keep knocking,
but no one's home.
So pull my tongue out
at the root.
Leave me dumb,
leave me mute.
I will speak with
my fingers and toes.
Sharing secrets that
no one hears.
I will tattoo your name
upon my tongue,
and then
and then I'll just hum.
Let me speak again
nevermore.
So take my words, and
do with them what you will.
I've no need for them anymore.
Take the nouns,
the verbs,
and all them adjectives too.
Take them.
Take them all.
Take them please.
And give me peace.

Those twin bards.
Since pining bites us,
we taint our tales
with lace and gin.

There is never enough time.
How many words
have gone unsaid?
Forgotten
by the light of day.
Kisses unfelt.
Embraces that could have been.
Friendships and lovers,
partners and foes;
Such things that may never be.
Sure, time makes fools of us all.
But what really frightens me
are all the corpses.

A charcoal suit hangs in the closet,
it stays clean and freshly pressed.
Fine leather shoes, always polished.
A selection of silk ties,
each blacker than the last.

He keeps his fingernails clean,
he is efficient.
His back stays straight,
he ignores the pain in his feet.
He knows what to say, and
when to say nothing.

Callused hands that whisper
the names of the dead.
Gray of eye,
soft of speech.
Lips well acquainted with,
"they will be missed."

He practices his smile,
warm but at a distance.
His presence is not unwelcome.
He does his job well,
and never once asked,

"Who will carry me
when my time comes?"

A fog descends on our fair city.
Like crowns upon the heads of giants,
the clouds come to rest atop
the brows of buildings too tall.
Midnight diadems
glimmering in the beam
of headlights, homebound.
We consider our station
from the sidewalk,
daydreaming in the dead of night.
Absent thoughts for highrise kingdoms.
It passes,
and all that's left is fairy glamour.
And as we walk,
we look up
and up
and up.

There are 140,490 miles of railroad in the United States,
21,000 miles of Amtrak rails,
Amtrak owns 2,142 railway cars
plus 425 locomotives,
only one station near Atlanta,
(the ones by Toccoa, Jesup, and Savannah don’t ******* count)
and just the two of us.
My point is:
There’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday

Maybe plans will never work out,
and I won’t have you in my life the way I’d like.
Maybe we’ll grow into two completely different lives,
but we promise to meet up every five years.
Maybe we both just disappear for a while,
and just happen upon the same town/train station one day.
Maybe we’ll never be close friends,
or lovers,
but maybe,
just maybe,
there’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday.

When I was young,
I used to follow the train tracks.
For miles and miles and miles,
just waiting for my train to take me away.
And when I got home I’d have so many stories to tell.
I saw two dogs *******,
And a family of opossums,
And a dead deer,
And a really pretty bug,
(And I got you some flowers but I dropped them,
when I thought the dogs were chasing me)
But your parents would always get mad at me for disappearing
when they’re supposed to be watching me until
my mom gets home.
And they’d tell me,
“do you have any idea how upset she’d be if
she knew you ran off like that?”
And I’d apologize for going off by myself
And they’d say,
“We forgive you. We won’t tell her
Just this once.”
But they’d never
never hear me
when I tried to tell them:
I can’t help it. There’s a big, beautiful, country out there
…and I want to see it.

Then when I got older,
I kept following the train tracks.
For miles and miles and miles.
Except now, I was a little more grown up.
I didn’t just disappear anymore,
walking along the tracks.
No, I had responsibilities
and obligations
and most of all,
a little money.
So, this time, I actually got to ride the train.
So my trains took me away,
And when I got home I had so many stories to tell.
I saw two drunks *******,
And a family of musicians,
And a ****** on the nod,
And a really pretty tree,
(And I got you some jewelry, but I dropped it,
When I thought the drunks were chasing me)
But more than all of that,
I saw a girl.
She was beautiful and funny and kind and smart.
But they didn’t have time to listen to my stories,
About the drunks and the tree and the girl,
Because we had responsibilities and obligations.
So I didn’t even bother
Trying to tell them,
I have to go back. There’s a big, beautiful, country out there
…and I have to see it.

So,
I don’t know if I’ll see you again, or
If I’ll get to follow all the train tracks I want,
But there are 140,490 miles of railroad in the United States,
And it’s a big, beautiful country out there,
So it might be planned,
Or by mistake,
Or luck,
Or divine providence,
But I think
I hope
I pray
There’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday.

We are bound by the sins of our fathers,
forever seeking a pair of scissors.