Indecision On Wheels

this train’s scorching white steel charges west,
battering gales slam brute against every revolution,
pirates like bookends trap it between its yesterdays and its tomorrows,
whipping through dusty cities and broken towns,
past wooden women and stoic children

untamed colors circle high above its tracks,
smoke clings to the edge of the conductor’s peripheral,
and as he wipes his brow he knows,
the hue of peace is out of reach, a tease at best

the years had taught him that dreams are painful excursions,
they are directions that lead into regret,
or at best… onto a stage surrounded by muted audiences,
never the less, the faint smell of possible laughter,
visits his mind with the predictability of an Indian summer

this locomotive knows no stops so knows no rest,
scaling over bridges,
pretending not to recognize the exotic perfumes emitting from below,
this scent in times before would have lassoed him from a deadline,
though now, the caves below his eyes was proof of this change

the solo mission of a half tortured half hopeful man,
the tortured half silently screaming “Save Me”
the hopeful half begging the tortured half for lenience,
the only cargo himself,
hauling distance from splintered memories to sharp to lay with,
open wounds, salty tears, and one simple promise,
a promise he would never share,
on a train that would never stop