have you ever thought about the fact that the
middle of nowhere is rather relative and that
way too many of them exist for them not to be
places that we can point to on a map

nowhere is
black sand and scorpions under the covers
glasses on a waitress and pink hair on another
thinking about you more than i probably should
seeing snow on mountains before ******* her
being twenty and too afraid of kissing an italian at a bar
midnight on the airplane for a christmas without the family
time away from you when i wanted nothing but to be next to you
carrots in tomato sauce before cards and welcoming gestures
all the people and places without a poem that deserve one
silently realizing that this may be everything i'm seeking
a shoebox full of polaroids but no pictures of you
the truth in flesh to prove my dreams are real
twelve countries and zero sense of home
anywhere but here

the middle of all that looks a little like
the time i did too little and said too little
when those three little words proved to be
the biggest of them all

when the train started moving
you didn't look back

Choo Choo!
The train of thought
Incoming!
No no!
It missed its stop!
The train is gone….
Who are you?

I'm on the Metra today
The snow outside is teal or green
Like the Caribbean in cartoons
But here 2 ladders lean on the same tree
A lover's suicide
The coldest Caribbean I've ever seen
The church's sign scrolls by
"ght in the Lor"
And we're gone
The train rumbles on
Bridges cover bridges
New! Tower of Babel (coming soon!)
A couple thinks they're subtle 3 rows up
Michael Jackson marries Elvis's daughter
He didn't go to the wedding
There's no Jewels Osco's in Georgia
But the houses here exude the same drab comfort
A deer stands next to a storage locker
The train rumbles on
I'm smuggling beer back to the dorm
Like the good college student my mom wants me to be
I don't have my phone on me
I've never felt more alone
Or free
I explain what happened to the guy who checks tickets
I dropped it in the floorboard of my friend's car
Right before the train arrived
He believes me thank god
I focus again on what's outside the window
And now it's just trees
Skeletal and bare
The train rumbles on

i am subway air;
my undergroundness apparent in your lungs
your runningaway
         your eyes i forgetᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ
and my family of trains and
   silence.
ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶦ ᵃᵐ.

i don’t take after the transportation: i am poised poison
and my hands hold all the words i have
ever opened my mouth forᵈᶦʳᵗᶜʰᵒᵏᵉᶜᵒᵘᵍʰᵍᵃˢᵖ.

but i dance, too. everywhere. in everyone.
places and people who are not youᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵘⁿᵈ.
i can’t help it. i have no choice.
they are here, and…

and when i am tired: i stop and just am.
for however long it takes my memory to paint
something small and heavy
the lines of past decisions
the shadows of living trees
in a forest of dead ones
the shapes of a thought i once had
the color of that moment
ⁿᵒⁿᵉ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ
the movement of that glimpse
of infinite imagination that i
once made my religion.
once.

then: i stop stopping. i wake up from nosleep.
i look around and i cannot find you.

⁽ᵃ ᵗʳᵃᶦⁿ ᶜʳᵃˢʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ᶦᵗ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ⁾

…ʰᵉˡˡᵒˀ

I’m travelling back
Back to where it all began
From one home to another
Back on the train
a domestic bird like me isn’t ready yet
I am too tamed
But deep within me lies a secret part of me
That awakens once I’m sent to the wild
Like a phoenix or an exotic bird,
Rising from my ashes
My ruffled, dusty feathers shed
And the clean, pristine ones arises
I wonder how he does it
Conquering, thriving
Living life as though it is actually exciting
My heart is racing faster than the train I’m riding
I pass through towns and mounts
Rivers brown and blue
What am I going to do when I reach my other home?
O! other me you know better than I do
How long are you going to sleep?
I need you now more than ever before
I can’t wait to be you

Drowsily dreaming the dreary day away,
I lean 'gainst the sill, looking out on the city.
Deep sighs cascade from my open mouth
Before I close my eyes and hum a diddy,
Remembering the people who've shown me pity,
As the train rattles on heading south.

My rail tracks seem to have disappeared
Only the red autumn leaves seem to have covered
A cold melancholy in the air hovers
As I look beyond to see what uncovers

But the truth is that it is an endless journey
There’s no special place ahead, no sanctuary
Just the train, and the passing estuary
The destination seems lost, as I realise it was only imaginary.

Now I yearn for meaning.

What is this train journey,
Where is it leading?
Maybe it’s better to just hop off
And enjoy it from the beginning.

Have another drink,
Why don't you?
Take another sip?
The bartender's watching us closely but
If I give him a hearty enough tip
He'll leave us be
And we can slip
Down to the train tracks
Like our slurred words.

We won't make love but we'll
Lay on the mercury speckled rails
Singing our heads off,
Drinking some more ail till
The horn blares and
The insides of our eyes pool with gaudy lights from
Heaven above

And we're rolled to bits,
Leaving nothing behind but a trail
Of blood and
The heavenly light of tails.

I remember the inside:
A little red; a bit of grey.
Rows of leather seats and carpeted floors.
But it was when the journey began,
And I sat down,
My feet dangling over the edge,
Just like my anticipation -
They told me we'll be under the sea.
But I felt us moving;
The slow hum I heard eased me.
My eyes flickered to the window,
My parents' voices faded,
As I watched my reflection.
Then I noticed her. In the window.
I recognized her,
From where we had left.
It was while I was on my feet,
Hand clasped in my mother's,
But eyes fixed on her.
The girl sat waiting, sketchbook in her lap,
Pencil in her hand with her legs crossed.
It was crowded and clamorous,
Yet she paid no attention,
Her gaze set on her art,
Her movements steady.
The girl's raven hair was tied
And I think she wore something blue.
We went in together.
We sat on the left,
She sat on the right,
And drew.
And drew.
And drew.
And her pencil left dark marks on snow-like paper,
As her hands moved fast, then slow.
I couldn't help but watch.
I strained to look away,
But the window only showed…
Black. Bricks.
Darker than her hair. And her pencil.
We were underwater, but I didn't care.
I was more intrigued by the girl
Who sat so close, but was so far away.
Practically living in a different world.
I was helpless, shy, way too curious.
I wondered what she was thinking. And drawing.
It was pure, innocent, fascination.
Then the train stopped.
She stopped.
I stopped.
Because we had arrived.
We left.
She was gone.
I was bored.
Again.