next stop.


i can see the light fade
from this golden orange haze
to a murky dark pine green


there are chunks of ice in the hudson
i didn’t bring the right shoes
i never seem to
no matter how hard i try.


there are so many constant commuters on this train
real life nomads
who spend such a chunk of life in movement


we don’t even think about it
the hours and days and weeks that pass while we are
in transit


nothing i know can break us down
the resilient few
the road warriors
backpackers and loners
the headphones and beanies
the wifi hot spotted




waiting, for phone calls
and rides
and taxis and buses and trains and planes


i think mostly we are waiting
to just go home.


i thought the world would revolve
without us


it wouldn’t


it stops.


we keep it humming
forever greasing the wheels
turning and churning and longing and missing
people that are far away
so we trace
far and wide and back and forth
and up and down the latitudes.


i like watching the day turn into night.
there is less dark than light now.
I’ve got my eyes on you
you’re everything to me


can we take on the world together
side by side
my PIC?


im a good girl and you know it.
are you a good boy too?


just hold on, were going home.


next stop…



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