Bart Adventure
The rails always hiss and scream
a steel Woman pierces the ear
drum. We all shake, bobbing and
dancing no skill required you
all do it equally as good
Doors open and close. People
enter and leave. A metallic
ant farm we all live in
together, never ceasing always
alive and kicking, some
of us screaming our
lungs out to unresponsive
gods to unresponsive ear-
canals. We are like stale
fish in a sardine pack, the
last one on the far left,
never bothered by any random
fleshy hand. The steel snake
oozes on through the black
tunnels as we finally reach
our blazing-light destination
arriving, we climb up steel
stairways that lead to another
screaming circus. All peoples
from all places thrive like
a bee hive that a small
child with a gigantic
2X4 smacked, creating
re-energized life. Humming
and buzzing all together
as one unit of blissful
creation. We might all be
moving to different places,
that one thing unites
us all, all in one fluid
motion. Old bookstores,
sanctuaries for people like
us still open.
He plucks away at a
classical guitar, playing
classical tunes which are
recognizable, but the name
always forgotten. Purchase
tomes of poetry, old
friends to be taken home
and put with the rest. Ever
increasing retirement home for the
artistically mad. Hughes and
Yeates are MINE, or
am I theirs? Perhaps its
a tango of verse, we lend
a hand to each other. After
much paying, and walking,
sitting and sleeping, we
return home. But what
does that mean. Home?
Home is where I put
my thoughts to paper, my
poetry to pen. Mozart
I am sure would get it
follow what I say, applaud
me with that silly laugh.
For now I'll accept you
stare with your accepting
eyes.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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