Waiting for a train means tasting a life to come
Not swallowing, but simmering it on the tongue
To watch the ambitions of the metal rails (to dare to roar)
Unbroken in their trek to the horizon

I sit here waiting, watching the rain shatter(or is it me?)
On my clenched pale fists
Like so many truths losing their sharpness to puddles
I cannot distinguish the raindrops in that vague pool at my feet

I sit here waiting, watching the years change color
What lives once, must die (to dust, to dust)
the burned-out wick of trust, drowned in its own oil
And rusted with broken tears

I sit here waiting, watching your shadow loom
Breathing glassy fragility into my shoulders
I break up the harsh silhouette into so many fragments of you
Perhaps easier to hold
(perhaps less sharp around the edges)