“EMOTIONAL CONSTIPATION”

From my window,
I watch the most
beautiful
white pony run.
I watch until
she has passed
out of view;
over hill and
under cloud.
Now, I watch
wind blow grass
until the next
white pony runs.
I wait, watching,
until my train
stops.

Moments like these,
like
holding an umbrella
over the girl
you dream of holding;
they are far and few
between.
But when they are,
they are
worth waiting on
every freight train,
delaying whatever
destination
we wait to arrive at.

From my window, now,
I look out.
Not much is moving.
I get up and go
forward
to the café car.
Two dollars buys
my coffee.
I sip and suddenly,
things
are moving again.
I go down
to the lower level,
open a door,
sit down
and shit.

Moments like these,
like
writing love poems.
They are far and few
between.
But when they are,
they are
worth waiting on;
emotional constipation
and all.

I go back to my window
and continue waiting
for my beautiful white
pony, but all I see
is the wind blowing.

narrative poem written on 05-08-2014 by: on mattkane.com
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