I see myself best in the whipping reflection on the train.
I am not fully there, blurred by some of the light inside
the cart and some of the outside light that is quickly
tickling the contours of my structure with its fleeting
motion. The speed of the train alone matching the
speed of my thoughts. My hair is a tye-dyed scene of
sunsetting sky and the blueish hue makes it seem
like a majestic sort of place to live if I were tiny and cold.
My forehead smudged with the buildings I am passing,
those buildings with their people inside of them working
and creating and there for quick seconds I wear them across
my face like their viking, hoping to take them my direction.
My nose almost becomes apart of the infrastructure; snug
right between the grocery store and gas station. Its own
steeple in the vision of a vast and empty field. My lips
look like life rafts for the pulsating cities we pass. My
lips want to call out to whomever will listen, but I keep
the thoughts inside my head, out of the atmosphere.
The train chugs along, keeping its pace and direction.
And I cannot fathom where I would look anywhere else
more like myself, than in the reflection of the train's glass..