blackeyesunrise

How do I explain
The significance of white jet trails against the blue/pink sky
Or winter coats blowing in on an autumn breeze?

Aboard an impending train,
Hope is the rumbling whisper
Of what is to come, the electric hum of
Phantom boxcars.

I lean to the ground, listening to
Patterns mapped against radio static, wondering
Why the cat hacked a hairball on my car.

The world rages on, pushed to violence
By men of good intent; in an empty hotel room
I reach out, the sudden need to
Touch something warm.

When everything succumbs to fuzz,
Let’s remember the days when…