CIGARETTE BEFORE THE COMMUTE HOME

Image result for inside the commuter train

One puff was particularly good.

Smoke poured into my lungs like a flood.

One scent, which dies away

Can make the garden appear to stay.

In this moment, out of the corner of my eye,

A lover almost is. And why?

Once, I stood on a mountain top.

But here, the seasons drop.

I remember the last kiss was divine

When my soul tasted her soul tasting mine.

In this life, which I cannot grasp,

A single memory makes me gasp.

The tired and bored afternoon

Is suddenly fighting with a far off tune.

The day ending crawls into commuters’ eyes,

Alive with shadows. The sunlight sighs.

The dust covering the window of the train

Reminds me of jealousy. Its happy pain.

The scattered drops of evening are fusing,

As if melancholy could be amusing.

The stretched clouds seem near and far,

As the sun begins to set in my railroad car.

Once there was moonlight and lilies as we walked

In the quiet of the evening, and we talked.

I notice the paused train’s hum.

The filthiness of the seats. A crumb.

The train announcements whine.

The sky at sunset threatens to be fine.

The simplest repetition gives pleasure.

The measurement of measure.

The day wants to begin again,

In the sighing of this routine end.

The fluttering of the costly day

Spills gems. Valued, since it goes away.

Who cares if I don’t know your name?

I will never see you again.

 

 

 

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