birds don't file flight paths
neither do free spirits
or fish in the sea
or me
It’s 10 o’clock
I have the feeling it’s much later
In a little café
just the other side of the border
living dangerously
stopped and waited
for an Amtrak train last night
sent my mind spinning
who was onboard? Where were they going?
what were their plans?
red lights flashing
meanwhile…
poems I wrote long ago
sitting in the bottom drawer
of the old wooden desk, unread
the dog growling and barking softly
while asleep
wonder what she is dreaming about
a chewbone, the dog next door
another existence in another world?
