Train of Sadness

Train of SadnessAn angular facefrom the eyes of the momentto the linesof past performancestells a tale.The mysteries behind a thin veilas if sleeping beneath a mosquito netin a four poster bedon a humid restless eveningkeeping out both the angels and the demonsa train of sadness follows in the wakeof such a sight as these.For inspiration offers no guaranteesit only offersin the glimpse of one sliver of a lifeits hand into the dance.Around the carousel of a city streetthese faces come out of the crowdthey place themselves on the mantleof a seconds glancethen disappear forever moreinto the cloud of circumstanceand the fevers pitch of memory.Mona Lisa smilesand as Dylan saidshe must have had the highway blues.Thinking too muchher interior worldis in terror as each word of a questioncrosses her face as if looking at a stock ticker.Anticipation of an answerwhile walking is a sign of parallel worldson the other side of the mirroryour spiritual self broken upinto tinted car glassand the reflective glance of clothing shop windows.You seebehind her the sea of humanityhas partedonly for a seconda man texting on his cell phone looks upas if hearing a voice from long ago.He looks behind him over the heads of the crowdthe words are coming a letter at a timethe search is a leading one a reaction of sortswhat am I doing nowI couldn’t tell you beyondplacing what I knowup against what I don’t.One long trainan Aurora Borialis of energy trailseach living being and mingleswith everyone elsesand those with colored speckles on their fingertipsrun back to solitary lofts to release their visionsand even then the scene they had envisionedchanges with pain or beauty or religious experienceinto something else entirely.To the lady in the long black leather coator the beauty with bandages on her wristsyou offer me things without wordsinterpretations of scenes and nothing morethat I can work with while I’m walking.You’re younger on the moveand if my smile gives away the highway bluesknow I work best while in a melancholy moodand my spirit is flying everywherein a parallel world on a carousel of scenes.

Train of Sadness

bill bell

Everett, United States

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