A Train (“una furtiva lagrima” by Enrico Caruso, 1911)

21 Jul

A Train (“una furtiva lagrima” by Enrico Caruso, 1911)

 

            like a prowling midnight wraith it passes

            like dust

            we travel

            all a temporary kin

            we are survivors

            thrown and shaking

            across bridges, tunnels and bad news

            sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, god to god

            locomoting through

            no destination

            where memory and culture try to find a solidarity

            beyond

            so close we sit

            the kids dance for smiles and dollars

            swirling around polls as though the metal was a light and it was summer and there was cooking and we were flies alive, abound and peckish with curiosity like an explorer’s hide made grim by wanderlust and rain when it domes over you like falling locusts, like a growing parasol, like the flash of cameras over the pale skin of an American actress smiling for the last hello

weeks at a time

            I watch them before going back to my book

            out of respect for other artists

            struggling to make a buck

            I’ve tried performing on these trains as well

            but I’ll take the street instead

            too shy to preach the underground measure

            a cement that my boots could grab is good enough for me

            I have witnessed prodigies (in the archaic sense)

            flopping

                        flapping

                                    flipping

                                                through the blocks

            I have seen surrender and true love

            I have seen not all, enough

            with more a still filling drink

            a name

            a new name

            all we seek

            all we must change

            if balalaika’s life and banjo death

            then we must change the name along with the tune and season

            and meet again when we are all unconditionally different people

            still traveling to something new

———–

Leave a Reply

Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


Copyright © 2010 - 2017 jacktumult.com All Rights Reserved.