Strangers on a Train Pass Gas Anonymously

You just can't pass on a good joke like that. It's a rule.

While our fearless leader is immune to the kryptonite power of poetry, we here at the Towers say write on!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faces in the Night

By Trackwood Von Broekn

Because it was late,

and I had worked a long day,

and had been drinking afterwards;

and perhaps part of the blur came from the spot

on the cold window

my warm exhalations had already fogged

as my nose became intimate with the glass

in the crush of the crowd.

 

But I could not tell

if the train on the other side of the platform

was rushing by,

or if the one beneath my leaden feet

had already started once again on its endless journey

to the place it had left so many times before.

 

And, somehow,

although the faces far ahead could be stopped

and held in focus,

and those far behind could be locked with my gaze

for the closest inspection,

the present tense

of those directly across from me

could not be analyzed,

could not be scrutinized,

could not even be vaguely seen or understood

as they rushed by so quickly.

3 comments

  1. Parisianne Modert says:

    I grant-ed myself the bewildered luxury of reading this unsettling blur three times, but the vertigo remained. The images are blurred sightings, quick, off the board darts & uneven train sways lacking any steady meter. The result is an effective presentation of motion without emotions in my opinion.

    I did like the pathos turning circle of life within the phrase, “started once again on an endless journey to the place it had left so many times before.” There is an impressionistic alienation and disconnect throughout this poem which kept throwing me off the train onto this cyber platform, time lined looping.

  2. Miryam says:

    Sometimes it is difficult to know wether we are moving life, or life is moving us…. I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we’re mov’in.
    Enjoyed this piece. Thank you.

  3. Laura G says:

    This captures a lot in a few spare lines. The emotional tone speaks to me of the human condition, wanting intimacy, people rushing by…others wanting intimacy and then we rush by…always trying to focus, to rest in each others’ gaze, to touch…to understand a poem, to be moved by a story…Let’s take a breath and stop the train at the end of the contest to appreciate each other!

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