I) Departure*

Short ride

Blinked
And the
Conductor
Woke me up

Last stop he called
End of the line
The not so secret  
Graveyards of movement
Edge of where sleep can
       Carry one

Time unlike movement
Can vanish
Blink and a year has passed

Suddenly after a month in a new city
        Your parents are old
Or your children are grown
Either way the radio no longer plays
Music you can recognize

Yet the trains
Do not change much
Marking out time
One rocking lullaby at a time

II) Return

One train
To another,
To another,
To another,
Finally the long walk home.

Past the bar
Which I will end up grabbing a round in
Before heading across the street
And typing up this weekend’s poems

Hard decision figuring out that order

Either way
New York is almost welcoming
With downcast eyes
And screaming sirens
When compared to the growing limp
My father carries himself with

Seeing age claim those we love
        Is a broken promise  
Fractured while we were off
Spending days like easy dollars
Until one wakes to frost
On youths windows,

The sudden knowledge
That autumn, is over
Displayed in brittleness
Of your fathers bones