Train Station

Writer’s Block

It’s a cool summer morning.

The wind weakly juggles a honey bun wrapper through a sea of gravel and broken glass before it too flees—

Above, the sun nods off behind a haze of grey sky and we wait.

I wait.

Shuffling uncomfortably a top a damp street bench that hangs limply to the edge of nothing.

It should be arriving soon, so I desperately tug at my sleeve, trying, fighting to stay warm amidst the chill of silence.

—a nothingness in everything, a nowhere.

It’s everywhere.

Just two days ago I was on it. The hustle and bustle and fluttering chatter. Whistles screeching

Never stopping, no.

Always going.

Picking up passengers and dropping off packages pushed with

Purpose.

Fueled with a cargo of possibly and lavished with cushioned seats of novelty–

Ideas.

Its soul trained on creation, choo choo-ing, toot toot-ing on the right tracks.

Railing the way to a destination—

 

 

Deadline.

 

 

There is a due date and suddenly, the train starts arriving a little—–

 

 

Never mind.

“You get off here.”

 

It let me off with a block in my hand and together we weight.

I wait.

 

 

 

Amusement Parks

  The moon sits comfortably wrapped in a blanket of stars.

It’s quiet, this world breathes; in and then out.

  She comfortably slides today behind eyelashes cloaked in dreams. Whispers her children a lullaby of hope, kisses foreheads and it is night.

   This is their 2 a.m, what happens when amusement parks do not make homes in one’s mind. It springs up, lights blinking, cars bumping, chatter.

This is my 2 a.m…