
Starting the morning in the big chair
Listening to train sounds on the record
From dad’s vintage vault
Drinking black coffee
Looking out the window
At the silence down the street
What shall we make of this day?
Starting the morning in the big chair
Listening to train sounds on the record
From dad’s vintage vault
Drinking black coffee
Looking out the window
At the silence down the street
What shall we make of this day?
On a clear day you can see Fuji
I think that’s what Streisand said
Riding trains toward Shinjuku
Existence hanging by a thread
Bundled in these foreign streets
So simple we often tend to forget
Life-changing inertia rolling along
A tempered life without mixed regret
Dodging trains with the Lost Boys
Feeling free in the midnight hour
Nothing can keep us on the ground
Laughing in faces of those who wish us dour
Freedom begins with your own soul
No matter the toilsome tasks or nautical miles
I’ll smirk & continue to play
For there’s a revolution within my smile
Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay
My whole life on scraps of paper
My soul jotted down on the page
Plot lines between scribbles
Character development as we age
Everything that I am, right here
Pushing to further keep my mind trained
My heart’s secret smudged
Within these lines my identity is contained
Its been a long, hard ride
To get where we’ve found
Bumps & bruises are everywhere
Keeping our souls on solid ground
There’s a small humility
Hidden within the secrets of Spring rain
Heartache never fully goes away
But what made you take a Westbound train
There’s no escaping the pressures
But by embracing love we’ll be able to cope
Turn towards the hearts that beat for you
Open your eyes, know there’s always a semblance of hope
Midnight’s a fine time to take the Jacksonville train
Rolling double boxcars to decide our fate
Gotta get back to my lover’s bedside
‘cause women like that don’t hardly wait
Been dreaming of her since the days of steam
Finely dressed woman with incalculable sense
I’m lagging behind schedules & timetables
Hindered by a world of devastating pretense
Spellbound, in the terminal cloister, trying to keep track
Our destiny dwindling, chanced by the tumble of dice
Fearing snake eyes when we need eleven
For lightning isn’t going to strike us down twice
Separation has me feeling on the edge of sincerity
Bleary eyes blinked time & again for some sanity
I’m not emotionally set up for these tribulations
Fear of failing, yet no marks upon my frivolous vanity
Memories of forgotten moments in the text
Perhaps it’s time for me to remain fully alert
But I can’t ignore how my insides churn
The notions of the woman so beautifully pert
It’s risky to return my heart for ante
Somewhere she’s loosening her bustle
This venture is getting out of hand
When she’s applying her legendary hustle
Pulling into the station, I know my lot
A few hours late; enough for passion to be reclaimed
I’ve tried my best, but crapped out again
In my weakness, I become loved; that’s when the angels came
Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
Perfectly lined rows of trees
Our escape from the mundane
Shaking away tilted visions
Of a ghostly morning train
Remembering her latent beauty
No place for such fickle motions
Return to living your current life
Set gently against the Atlantic Ocean
Flaming sauerkraut stud muffin
A condensed version of radial glory
Knowing full well where life begins
The translucent strands of our story
Calculating Parisian jazz statistics
Veiled through the rummy, filtered grime
Distance equals an unfettered stump
When satisfaction measured in Lycra & time
Logbooks; surmounting the tepid schedule
All aboard the mourning run of the downtown train
Sunrise catching your weary eyes
Early summer rain prepositions our inaugural hurricane
*I was bogged down and couldn’t write so I just started writing nonsense until I was inspired to create something. It is what it is.
I poured you copious amounts of wine
Frank was singing ‘The Lady Is A Tramp’
We danced until you went home on the train
Your dreams ended up being quite damp