To the unlikely Amtrak ride
the one with people
acting like cartoons.

With an announcer
over the intercom
smushing words together--
saying we'll arrive in Lodi
and then in blah blah location.

To the conductor
whom
speaks to us as children,
because to him
we look like long time
traveling companions.

He plays with our
destinations
and notices that we're going
to two different locations.

We've only known
each other existed from
the 30 minutes we rode
side by side on the bus before the train.  

No matter the time.
We've become limited-less
as it was too easy to speak
and impossible to stop.  

All the truths
we've shared will never be gone
the moment just as we felt in it
can never truly come to an end.
As long as the train keeps moving
our moment will forever trek on.

Even after I have left the ride
and you've finally fallen aleep
without my company to stir you awake.

It may never happen again
just like the dreams you're having
right this moment.
But least we came to speak
for the shortest
of train rides.

"I hope to go just like my father did...
the final falling into aleep.
There is no need to carry on and weep."

She chases red-haired children 'round the floor...
awake, responsive, dreaming...
O2 low.
She falls into the air, a bruise to show-
swears she will not do that anymore.

She's addicted to the pump that gives her breath-
totally aware of her impending death...
(does she know I would take it if I could?)

Her lonely days in springtime haze,
window-watching birds...
in black and red, the records kept
of her final words.

A daughter, corporation-owned,
fear from far away...
one reduced to part-time job,
surviving day to day.

My sister/crutch, to whom I clutch
as I limp through the mess...
my lover and an angel
who guide me through the stress...

"You'll wake one morning to find me dead",
words to me, tonight, she said...

I wake all night and hit the light
to watch her chest rise and fall.

(Does she know I would take it if I could..?)