Wednesday, April 4, 2012

April 4 Poem: The Dance of the Left-Right Sway (4/30)

And each city is a flash,
each citizen a speck
on this train ride between
townships. Strangers sharing
this car, this air, this free wifi,
this conductor, this suspension
between to and from. Behind,
conversations of apparent
importance, spoken on a 
Blackberry with urgency.
"Family emergency... No,
there will be no way to reach
me at the hospital... Yes,
I promise to be on email 
as much as I can..." then
a long silence, not even a sigh.
Across me, a watermelon 
coat outshone by a smile, 
it must be love, a new love
she cannot contain.
She stares out the window,
as if to make a wish and 
then, she is suddenly sad..
Beside me, a logbook,
an iPad, a calendar and
a calculator. It is tax season
in the East Coast and he
is both King and drone,
he leaves his armaments
only once and returns with
his third coffee. 

And the speed of the 
journey is swaddled in
the softest sunlight,
camouflaged by the
left-right sway. And the man 
with the clicker is always
the boss. And the suit
who steps out to take
a call means business,
so does the pearl-wearing
hair flipper he is here with.
The conservative in the
seat next to me reads about
the missionary position, and
the hipster across from him 
is bored. And the argyle 
sweater in the middle is
pensive and the watermelon
coat is smiling again.
And each city is still 
a flash, and each citizen
is less of a speck in the 
sway and the rock from 
New York to Boston today. 

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