five quick thoughts on the train



The worst is to age without cause or live without reason
The worst is to be complacent with mediocrity,
or to accept the ordinary.
And above all,
the worst is to age late in life without feeling the glory of reflection . . .

Even the rough experiences add season to life,
and anything without season

is bland.

One day, if I pull off my trick,
I will wake up and be older.
And if my memory is clear. I will look back and remember
the times I broke night and watched the sun come up
over New York City.
I will recall what the full moon looks like
over the Atlantic Ocean,
and I will sigh with satisfaction because I lived
instead of wondered.


Young kid takes his girlfriend to ride the different subways
from one end to the other, and then back again.
The couple sits together with a picnic basket between them,
moving on a train beneath the tunneled ground of the city,
and they watch the different crowds and fashions change throughout the neighborhoods.

Each date, they randomly select a different subway.
Then they pack their basket, and then they go . . .

Their goal is to ride every train in New York City,
including the different ferries and shuttles,
and if love is successful,
then I suppose they will find some other simple way
to share their time together.

I say this is the genius of young love.

I have an idea for a date:
Maybe we could find a small lake somewhere
and we can rent a rowboat.

I could row us around and I imagine the trees would surround us.
The sunshine would bounce between the rippling water
and glisten along the tops of lily pads.

We could sit together,
quietly watching the dome of soft white clouds

moving through the blue of an almost autumn sky.
We can bring a basket
and have our picnic on the water.

I say this is the genius of my love for you.

Or, if you prefer
we can talk a walk though the park when it rains.

Are you interested?



I dig my toes into sand and watch the waves fold into an otherwise empty beach.
The early time is the best time.
The crowds have yet to arrive,
and other than the sound of wind and waves,
there are no loud noises to impose or interfere with the moment at hand.

Perfect . . .


Girl on the train has a slight  hairlip.
The scar is not too drastic,
but the years of healing have been kind to her pretty face.
She is well-dressed
She appears to have a nice figure, yet,
regardless to her soft, sweet appearance,

I imagine her childhood was difficult

I am reminded of the story about the ugly duckling
growing into a beautiful  swan.

I believe this metaphor will cover my story as well.

In the early years of my awkwardness,
I saw myself as odd looking.

I was painfully thin, weak, uncoordinated,
and socially uncomfortable.

I saw my flaws as magnified versions
reflected in the way I believed others saw me.

I saw my scrawny physique
I noticed the lack of muscle tone in my arms and legs,
and I was well aware of my lacking height.

These flaws (Or so I thought) were pointed out by my peers.
And had it not been for my time on the playground or in the classrooms,
I might have never known my differences.

  . . . It first began with a push and shove match in class
This happens with young boys.
We jockey for position and stage for dominance.

My first lesson was after school.
I agreed to fight someone much larger than me.
He laughed.
Told me I was too small.
Threw me into the shrubs outside the double doors
at the side entrance of our elementary school.

I never forgot this
I never forgot the humiliation
I never forgot the laughter and the obvious difference in my size.

It is true . . .
insecurities are taught, planted, gardened, and grown.
The hardest lesson to learn is how to stop nurturing them

Girl on the train is sleeping as I write this.
She has a semi-smile and her wedding finger
is dressed with a large engagement ring.

Perhaps this is why she smiles
Perhaps she smiles because she has someone
Someone reminds her she has grown into a swan
She has someone to nurture the better side of her existence
She smiles because has someone to remind her she is beautiful.

I like that . . .


The worst way to live is loveless
The worst way to feel is hungry:
Hungry to touch,
hungry to feel, to share
to want and need but not have anyone
want or need you in return.

The worst is loneliness in crowded rooms
or the distance between you and the rest of the world.

But one day . . .
if I pull off my trick

I will wake up,
and you will be right there next to me







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