Boarding the railroad is for ordinary Joes,

Working stiffs—

I am ordinary Jane.

Everyone shares a lift

to his or her destination.

We are one, riding,

passengers in a traveling trance,

owned by places.

I distinguish my identity,

imagine crying out:

I’m too pretty for these blue and red vinyl seats!

Season’s floral landscape

passing windows

tinged from evening rain

nourishes souls aboard,

a funeral for unfulfilled dreams.

Victims of lifelessness—

I want to peel wasted time,

like a tangerine!

For what reason do we die this way,

never picking daffodils,

admiring laughter.

Playing sounds of waterfalls on tape,

we see birds in their song,

live beautiful moments

in manufactured peace.

Today could be extraordinary,

if given a chance—

A smile turned golden.

When the time comes to participate

in life’s luster again,

I won’t return, but send a postcard,

sealed with dancing lips.


Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2007 All Rights Reserved