Acela Express...
~ Acela Express ~
and they turn their noses
but I look through
the glass
beyond the
fog of warm breath...
houses out of sync,
dilapidated and disturbing,
yet oh so right
for what it is...
if you listen close
you can hear the music,
tribal rhythms,
profound bass
with pensive perfections...
and if you're lucky,
you'll understand what this means
somewhere between
Boston and New York...
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|