Ways Of Not Arriving

My mind drifts loose into the moving art framed by train window. Houses in the field glitch by— brick red roofs and windows that hold sunset across the champaign. I wonder what it’s like to live in that world, where you wake and rest with the sun. My gaze drifts to clouds light as swan feathers. Their dance—effortless, unrepentant as the sunset dyes them tangerine and pink. I wonder what it's like to live in their world, where you count days with how the wind blows. ——A sharp whistle stole my attention. The train slowly comes to a stop. The city busy flickering neon signs that can give a girl seizures. I collect myself back, just enough to function— The rest can stay loose with the clouds and the lovely red roofs.