As Always

I had imagined
optimistically, as always,
that while the engines wheezed us
over the indistinct deserts and ranges
of a mysterious country,
that you would find comfort in my shoulder.

That the sweet breaths of your dreams
would warm my heart.

But luck, callous as always, had other plans.

So, now I gaze out to where
the Pacific is a heart-breaking blue
and see rivulets reach
into the desert with turquoise fingers.

BART to SFO

Rocked side to side
By the rhythm of the tracks.
The window is frosted with dewy rain.

Outside the hills are shrouded in a grey haze.
The tree line disappears into mystery and magic.
Thee highway has been polished
Like an antique mirror -
Mistily reflecting headlights, facades, and trees.

The train squeals into the dark of the tunnel and erupts into light.
The train is single-minded - its destination is certain.

And though, I too, follow its path
My destination is hidden from me
Like the contents of a misty hilltop forest.

A start

I stumbled upon some poems I wrote two years ago and thought to myself, "sometimes i have a way with words." I decided that it makes sense t create a repository for this kind of work.