sorry for arriving late on the train to life.
i made you wait
and waiting you stood, clad in grey
you were faceless among cherry blossoms of red
the train pulled in at 12 o’clock
but i don’t know if that’s midnight or midday anymore
this journey has taken an ice age.
those catholic-oil-painting clouds have
forgotten my name
and i’d say i mind but really i don’t
because you still waited for my train
all the same.
for one moment there i swear we chugged
through ponds of weeds and dragonflies
and i caught one and pulled off its wings
grounded it to a crane fly state
then spat it back up in life’s careless face
and still this pathetic train chugged on
at a thousand miles an hour
into the sun.
occasionally i could feel lava
eating at the metal of this carriage and
i wasn’t scared
i promise i wasn’t
because through the clouds of smoke and steam
you were still running faithfully
beside me through that clogged carriage window
waving handkerchiefs at the driver.
and when i finally pulled into life
there you were sweat-stained, ash-grey
sooty and sweet on the saffron platform line
where together we jumped over
onto those electric tracks
and traversed the veins of earth
hand in hand