“THE DESERT STAYS WAITING”

I waken to desert;
to heavy fog
pressed into dryness.
I waken to the cries
of an unhappy newborn
two seats behind mine.
I waken to
a lifting blindfold,
revealing where I've
been and why I went
where I am leaving.
I waken to the desert;
to the strict rails
and the unending delay
of getting where I am
going.

We halt
to give way
to freight
and tremble
in
its wake.
Like all things,
its passing
is eventual and
slow going.
Much time seems
wasted.

Coffee,
eggs,
bacon,
and a biscuit,
smothered in
freezer jam,
in the dining
car
make the wait
bearable.

Soon, we are
moving again
and
the people
are asking
when the next
smoke break
will be.

I return
to my seat
and slide
my blindfold back
over
my eyes, knowing
the desert will stay
waiting
and so will I.

narrative poem written on 02-23-2014 by: on mattkane.com
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