Poverty Ride

The train was poverty ridden.

Everything about it said ‘worn out shoe.’

The only difference between the conductor and the railroad bum

Was one extra rumple 

On the conductor’s muffle ruff,

A place to hang his gold watch and chain,

If he ever might manage to survive til retirement.

My sister and I traveled by train.

She, always much more worldly than I,

A look in her eye that knew.

While I was pie-eyed.

I surveyed clouds to see what pictures they drew 

Across the sky for me to interpret 

In my ignorant, innocent way.

And her boobs were bigger.

Well she chose the conductor, 

And as for me,

The railroad bum was all that remained,

But I jumped off the train instead.

I bumped my head

And landed in a sturdy rut,

Worked my way up the Pizza Hut ladder,

And only have a pizza gut to show for it.

But what’s the matter with you?

You don’t like me.

You think I’m the railroad bum in this equation?

Then jump the train,

The other one heading in the other direction.

Or don’t.

But, life is moving,

And the truth goes with it,

And a thousand galloping horses can’t catch it

If you miss it.

I’ve even come

To miss that railroad bum.

And you?

Maybe you will even see

Your way back to missing me?

Unless we all find that somewhere in time

We all have a second try

At loving one another.

Unless we all find

A way to see

That the richness of life

May be entwined

All the way through the nights and days,

And may be sensed

Even while riding

A poverty-ridden train.

-jenn