In my dayreams
I see pieces of life go by
Like trains.
And cars are connected by a
Sense of love and pain.
She strolls by unknowingly,
And doesn't mind.
And I can't understand her.
I'd like to tell her...
anything,
But she seems comfortable.
And I know if I do,
Every bad line from the
Movie of my life
Will flash across the screen
When she doesn't understand.
And in my childhood
Trains called at night
And their whistle would
Wake me if my window was
Cracked.
And they sound like the muffled
Laughter of a girl.
And I'd like to tell her...
Everything.
--Quinn Grover
from The Statesman
This was published in my unversity's newspaper about 1996 or so. I like how it is me at 19 - aware, watching, but still waiting for the world to begin.
Awake overnight at Granny's I listened to the sound of the distant train as the slow/fast condensing roadway headlight shadows sped past the wall across my eyes underlining the solitude of youth.
ReplyDeleteWould I ever know? could I ever go?
So beautiful, so free.
Your comment is poem in return. :)
ReplyDelete