quiet time
on the Long Island Railroad
with no place to go
but old songs
as refurbished stations.
worse than this,
nothing has really changed,
aside from my drinking less
and her getting married,
just don't go tell anyone
any of this.
the metal mirror
knows my face
better than I do,
and it remembers my
younger face, too.
there is hope in these train rides,
and I remember why I used to think this,
because it is how we learn to see things
that fly by our windows
that seem more romantic
than they really are,
which makes me think they are perfect
in their blurred world.
is fate a hoax?
I have no idea,
but I revisit things and places
with new eyes and new ears
every couple of years
and I am surprised at the results.