poem

-delusional-

It was routine
Fare card
Turn style
Seat by the window
Marked with
Spray paint

Eavesdrop a little
Whistle
And pretend to read
From a book
That someone had
Left in
The laundry room
Phil doesn’t sleep anymore
Caffeine
Redbull
Vitamin b12

Anything
To stay awake
If he nods
Off here
He becomes another
Footnote
Another Rod Serling
Narration


This place will
Cease to be
this place
So he rides
Not looking out
the window

His mind
Tends to wander
It only causes trouble
And leads to therapy
With ink blots
And word association

He wants to be
Ordinary
But the places out the
Window shift
At the speed of
R.E.M.

This is not the blue line
Red line
Green line
Where trains stay
on the track
Provided

His eyes snap open
Face molded
By horror
Of events
That no one grasps the
Severity of

When this train stops
The doors will open
On 1940’s Germany
or
An idyllic little
White bread town
Where they eat
Their elders

You have to help
But you can’t
They never believe
Him
They lock him
Away
And the doors open
On somewhen
Else

Frightened
The last time this
This happened to Phil
Some one died