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.
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