Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Cross

He takes the same train I do
The same A to B
We ve never acknowledged
Neutral scowling rush hour faces
Now he appears at lunch
Arrives in costume to play in the wrong scene
No less disgruntled
At the quiet indignity of eating a sandwich
Than in riding the rails
Another lost actor strolls by my window
Pink flipflops over white lead chevron stripes
Her proper place is the bagel shop
Twenty two miles away
God is running out of actors
In the sitcom of my life
Ratings must be down

1 comment:

nobody+knows. said...

as usual, you still write some beautiful stuff. i love the grittiness you describe everything with.

anyhow, i rechecked your profile to find that you do TAI CHI!! and FENCING!! man you sound like you lead an exciting life. exotic vacations to visit ancient ruins, sophisticated hobbies, everything. it makes me envy you a hell lot =)

on another note, i've been in a personal slump in life, so i'm sorry i haven't commented in a while. i should drop by from time to time, even if i don't post ^^;; i certainly do love your subtle poetry once in a while. i showed it to my brother and he loved it =D since you're older, i thought you might have an answer to this question: is there such a thing as a true calling in life? i feel i'm still waiting for something like that. consider it just a random question, if you think it inappropriate?