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Another Poem

I wrote this poem about taking  the train to school.

Drug Trax Boys

I see the drug boys in train cars,

tracks inside their arms like rails

leading them, dying, to an end.

When it snows I think: everybody

dies. The train always goes the other

way, opposite of my intentions. I could

catch it, that’s true, but where would I

end up? Farther away from home.

If you are roaming, boys, do not do

as I do. Do not wish and worship

the weather, as if it pays attention.

Do not think of desire as a ringing

you must answer. No one is home.

Seek instead the hollow hand. You know.

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