Cafe Del Soul
By Marc Carver -- Contributing Poet -- [Email This Item]
I sit on a white picket fence
The train track sits before me like some boundary.
I look one way but cannot see the end of the line.
The other way is the same but it feels different
But I do not know why.
There are no signs of any trains on the track
Not at all.
Here, I could stay forever
Looking at the line that I cannot see the start of
or the end.
Maybe it is one big loop.
If I started running one way
Eventually I may come back here
Would I still be here?
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