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I hate the ordinary,

And you know that’s true.

Because I’m not ordinary.

What do you want to do?

“I am on the 6:05 train,”

Types the albino woman with sunglasses.

I see it. Let’s think about that for awhile.

We hurtle into Lynn, listening to Ravel.

Not really. I said that to sound interesting.

I’m saying all of this to sound like I have style.

That’s all the poets have left these days.

I think she’s British.

The albino. Don’t ask her if it’s true.

I’m really alone. Though I think I’m on this train with you.



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