Archangel.
Accelerating down parallel rusted beams, the whirr and buzZ
Bellowed and mercilessly shattered fragile eardrums, violentlY
Commanding attention. I sat alone – it was half past siX –
Draped between the sunset’s lethargic gray and orange melloW.
Empty souls spoke elsewhere, listening to iPods, watching portable TV,
Feigning a sort of companionship along the way. I hopelessly strU-
Ggled to make sense of direction in the dawning nighT:
Huntington ? Broadway ? Auburndale ? My stop… did I misS
It? As the sun grew wearier and the artificial lights took oveR,
Just when my eyelids gave up, a man who seemed uniQue
Kindled my dying enthusiasm. As we began to talk and swaP
Lives, it occurred to me that I was confiding in him after one hellO,
More or less. But we already shared too many things in commoN.
“Never dare to give up faith,” he said, his voice suspended in dreaM,
“Or, even if you’re not religious, to withhold a tale you can telL.”
Perfectly constructed words imbued in truth’s boiling stocK
Quietly tiptoed their way into my conscience. He said his dayJob
Revolved around a routine that he hated, that if he had one wI-
Sh, he would become a writer. I saw him fruitlessly trying to pusH
Tears back when he told of his mother’s multiple sclerosis. “Not even a joG
Under the bridge where she met my father ! Some stufF
Vexes you to no end.” He looked away, and I knew nothing he said was a liE.
“We will meet again,” he said before getting off the train. And such a curtaileD
eXposure might never mean much to anyone, yet his nyctophobiC,
Yellow jubilance convinced me that yes, we will meet again, after we climB
Zenith after zenith, after awakening from ignorance’s anesthesiA.
Bellowed and mercilessly shattered fragile eardrums, violentlY
Commanding attention. I sat alone – it was half past siX –
Draped between the sunset’s lethargic gray and orange melloW.
Empty souls spoke elsewhere, listening to iPods, watching portable TV,
Feigning a sort of companionship along the way. I hopelessly strU-
Ggled to make sense of direction in the dawning nighT:
Huntington ? Broadway ? Auburndale ? My stop… did I misS
It? As the sun grew wearier and the artificial lights took oveR,
Just when my eyelids gave up, a man who seemed uniQue
Kindled my dying enthusiasm. As we began to talk and swaP
Lives, it occurred to me that I was confiding in him after one hellO,
More or less. But we already shared too many things in commoN.
“Never dare to give up faith,” he said, his voice suspended in dreaM,
“Or, even if you’re not religious, to withhold a tale you can telL.”
Perfectly constructed words imbued in truth’s boiling stocK
Quietly tiptoed their way into my conscience. He said his dayJob
Revolved around a routine that he hated, that if he had one wI-
Sh, he would become a writer. I saw him fruitlessly trying to pusH
Tears back when he told of his mother’s multiple sclerosis. “Not even a joG
Under the bridge where she met my father ! Some stufF
Vexes you to no end.” He looked away, and I knew nothing he said was a liE.
“We will meet again,” he said before getting off the train. And such a curtaileD
eXposure might never mean much to anyone, yet his nyctophobiC,
Yellow jubilance convinced me that yes, we will meet again, after we climB
Zenith after zenith, after awakening from ignorance’s anesthesiA.