Life begins on one of them
She is sure
This can not be it
It is at one of those stops
The lights pass each time the train door opens
She clutches the bottom of her seat saying
… maybe there is something better on the next one
Waiting for a sign
Something bright
Saying this is it
This is where your life starts
The years keep passing
Like reminders of wasted opportunity
Of things built and discarded
The increasing gray on the roads
Looking for bright lights
Wearing a ring from the men who was going to give her children
A shirt from the one she met last night
A little hope that there is a love she won’t break
The city is lonely
But the further she gets out the more it smells like death
Like wasting away
Hanging yourself on a picket fence
Waiting for the bright lights to save her again
No comments:
Post a Comment