He met her at the bus one day,  
Her smile like dawn, his heart astray.  
A fleeting glance, a laugh so bright,  
She lit the world in passing light.  

Her voice was soft, her words were few,  
Yet in his soul, a love he knew.  
But time was short, the ride too fast,  
Her stop arrived—his heart held fast.  

He watched her step onto the street,  
Her fading form, his lost heartbeat.  
His own stop called, the doors hissed shut,  
A silent ache, his soul left cut.  

If only time had paused awhile,  
Or fate had matched her steps to his mile.  
But buses run, and moments flee—  
Now all he holds is memory.  

A love untold, a chance undone,  
A station missed, a setting sun.

Huddled, strained, with craned necks to the board,
They wish for that missing number,
The hope they wait upon—
The launchpad to their homes.

Puzzled, drained, enraged—the muttered sounds.
They miss that sudden cue,
The rush to be the one;
That fearful scrum of drones.

Tom Lefort

I set this train a' rolling
down tracks with no stations
knowing a wreck inevitable
of this wild and ridiculous ride
wind in my hair taut expression
flesh stretched across a face
expecting the outcome

Happily, I'll wait with you in the station
For hours and hours
I know you feel stuck
Held back by promises
We could do something fun
Distract you long enough to forget about the pain, and
Secretly, I'll hope your bus never comes

The separation stretches for more than twenty hours,
I wait and wait and wait...
At the lonely station
For a train that gets cancelled
After getting delayed for so long,

I yearn for the journey
The destination beguiles me,
So, if not by train
I'll cover the distance imagining
the time which tied us together like spokes of a wheel.

summer night
lit up by the flashlight
of a cracked cell phone
suburbia held her breath
sang to by the crickets
a walk to the gas station
holy city in the dead of night
my friend drank too much ***
he banged on the door
it was locked
the clerk seemed scared
he thought we were robbers.

The restaurant
We ate at
The last time I saw you

Is now closed

I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see you

I didn’t know that would be the last time I
would eat there

You looked into my eyes for the first time since I picked you up to say “this is the best garlic bread I have had in my entire life”

It took us 47 minutes to get there

It took us 61 minutes to get home

Because we sat in the parking lot of a gas station I’d only been to once before, but liked a lot

I haven’t been there since we were
Either

We listened to that song

Not the one you quoted at “lunch”

Not the one about what you want and don’t

The one that asks why

I took you back

To his house

I parked a block away

I cried

books written in symbols
were attempts to mimic the language of the heart

somewhere i jotted within an admission of love

i wonder who knew it first
and how profound it could be when it was there the whole time

~

i find myself at Union Station,
where people pass time sitting silently in pews.

closing doors kick a breeze that weaves between the columns
holding up the heavens
the hair on my arm waves like wheat stalks

i’ve got a hunch i could go just about anywhere from here

the halls here just go on and on.
it’s not the whole world, but it’s the only place i want to be.