A little homesickness can make you look back again. |
Starting to wonder where I belong. Not here, not now. Staring out the window I see more stars than ever before. The sky is more vast And darker here, more to it; There is more to the universe, too, I suppose, If I care to look deep enough into it. But do I care to look deep enough? Do I want to leave the comforts Of a mind melding society, Deep rooted trends and exotic, Hypnotic, Luxurey...cooshening? The distant wind pushes The sound of a passing freight train, Horn blaring, smoke swirling, I can hear it's brakes screaming down the tracks As it tries to avoid smashing Into a broken down school bus Full of broken down dreams Planted in broken down children By lying parents who won't admit That they are all hate children. I wonder what New York is doing tonight? What bird is landing on the head Of a plastic owl perched High atop another doomed skyscraper? What dog is taking a leak on an empty Fire hydrant...red tree? Can New Jersey smell the flowers I do, Or is it all shielded By some rancid odor of dead fish And cheap hair bleach Congregating with the shit pools Of a fat woman with the flu? In a week will Pennsylvania seem so far away, Or will I forget the crack house And the suicidal whore? Will the bars on their windows bend And force down the gates around My mother's childhood soda fountain, The childhood who's windows I stared at In awe and wonder, Excited to see one discarded napkin On the dusty counter Of a shop long closed By an owner long dead With a family long since done their mourning? This is where I belong. Right here, next to that freight train, With the other broken down dreams. |