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Love on an express train with a local ticket

 

Love is like being on an express train

With a local ticket and no reservation.

One stop you sit chillin’ as soon as it starts;

It takes you for a little while and a little while more.

Next stop? Get up to find another seat at the door;

Maybe the next stop will be the end of the line,

So rock her down till the rollin’ stops,  

When you seem too familiar and kind.

Too hungry to sit and hard-pressed to move on,

It is done before you reach your destination.

Perhaps you sit on the floor transfixed

Or stand in the vestibule near the toilets.

When you’ve opened your eyes to the world you created,

It is half past late for the ride to go that way.

Without faith and vision no place goes well.

From car two, aisle-seat nineteen you move,

To car two, seat twenty-six window move,

Third stop, to car four, no seat at all;

Two-thirds of your life down the line.

Red signal reflection on how your trip’s been going.

The train may reach your station too soon;

A back station without all the façade,

Then ride home to find yourself alone.

Not how you thought it would be;

You can't ignore the aimless tragedy.

When you had a chance to change tracks,

To make it to providence tree fruit laden,

You missed your stop for being in a hurry.

Now it’s time to check the Train-time table,

For some red-eyed mover to hold you tight,

A love that can change your life overnight,  

But it’s up to Dou-Liu at five-oh-three.

No seat at Dou-Nan with twenty minutes to go.

Passing Tien-Zhong; next stop: Chiayi home,

With no one to give you a seat in paradise,

And no woman to make you fold your arms twice.

 

April 17, 2021

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