...the junk drawer of my mind... look if you want. you might find dreams scraps (maybe featuring you?), poem scraps, ideas unformed or abandoned, dried out sharpie pens, 37 cent stamps, lies and red-herrings, lip-gloss and assorted dangling and/or misplaced modifiers.
tanky. picture is not mine. when i lived in NY and was up and down the eastern seaboard all the time, it seemed i was on some kind of train just about everyday.
in a car the world just doesn't pass by in the same muse-y way. best are the box cars in Europe where you have to look/not look at strangers across from you for five hours. once my sis and I took a train from Germany to Paris and our car was full of six spectacularly interesting people: a physicist, a conductor, a dancer, a something else. it was like a rolling 'My Dinner with André'. Sure wish I could recall the conversation. At least I can recall the train sound and the feeling of sticking my head out the boxcar window..
2 comments:
Yes! So we must suffice with imagining them as we hear the freighters rumble in our vicinity. What a simple and elegant post that was.
tanky. picture is not mine. when i lived in NY and was up and down the eastern seaboard all the time, it seemed i was on some kind of train just about everyday.
in a car the world just doesn't pass by in the same muse-y way. best are the box cars in Europe where you have to look/not look at strangers across from you for five hours. once my sis and I took a train from Germany to Paris and our car was full of six spectacularly interesting people: a physicist, a conductor, a dancer, a something else. it was like a rolling 'My Dinner with André'. Sure wish I could recall the conversation. At least I can recall the train sound and the feeling of sticking my head out the boxcar window..
heehee the local train just hooted!
hope you're having a grand day.
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