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.