Christmas Train

On a train, in a lounge car, somewhere outside Winona Minnesota…

Thinking about moments and soda-and who is over my shoulder.

 

Another locomotive passes by; sound and light.

A moonless night shows no river.

 

Shrug off the thoughts, they don’t exist.

Shrug off the lost, its old business.

 

Traveling companions take a glimpse of what is, reflect and walk on.

 

No business on a trip like this.

 

Crumpled and out of place, like a Christmas wish list on the 26th.

 

The land speeds by, invisible to the eye.

 

What happened where I sit?

Did they learn from it?

Were they burned from it?

Was it realized?

 

The things we leave behind.

Out of sight, slightly out of mind.

 

Answer the question:

Affection is feeling not leaving.

 

I left on a train after dusk.

Winter days, winter months.

 

La Crosse is just lust, and what you find while looking for flesh.

Nothing meaningful, sometimes regret…

 

Most inhabitants always get wet.

 

Seething and hateful-

Girls are so graceful.

 

So on, move on.

Bygones be gone.

 

We don’t see each other.

We see what is right in front of us.

 

I see empty seats and a few people reading.

Cans at my feet, chewed nails start bleeding.

 

Other people laugh as they drink and carry on.

 

I think, time to kick the habit.

As I travel through time…

 

The train shakes, rattles, and bounces along.

 

 

 

 

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