Sitting under the trees by the train track just outside the door
Worried about not speaking in the conversations that take place inside
I really liked you and I really liked you
I ate coconut and ginger
And smoked outside the door.
Sitting under the trees by the train track just outside the door
My friend brought me out three coffees, a small act of significance
What a long way a thought goes!
I drank my coffee
I smiled at my friend.
Sitting under the trees by the train track just outside the door
I envied pink nails and good brains
I smoked during the story of the mother smoking through cancer
Offered the teller a light,
Lit up again.
Outside the door is a train track
Like a home long ago
When I sat in a box room and played with a razor,
Found in a reeking mothball drawer
I cut myself just to see what it felt like
Outside the door is a train track
Nobody seemed to notice the noise, so nor did I
I listened to nomads with a detached longing
Wondered what the squatters thought of my view of a garden
Not a meeting of minds but a meeting of moments
Like passing trains,
we left.
