You remain the least of their
paranoid worries, smouldering
up the Hudson flowing grey
hair. They paid for tips once;
now change is loose, vengeance.
Cold uniformed stares outside
exits and gas stations. Over
platforms red numbers, an eye
for a letter. Destinations yelp
songs for the settled. Obvious
melodies time warp plotlines
distinguished by our humour.
Ascend gently into a dim light,
hands stretching out to catch
the glowing halos of redwood
like giant laser beams of truth.
