nomad
no home, no four walls with a kitchen and a place to sit down and many many couches to rest on and a tv to stare at, no tv, you sit on your bed, lay in it, look at the ceiling, look at a book that you are holding in your hand, doze off, dream of what you are going to do the next day, dream of the next moment when you get out of bed and have a glass of wine or water and sit down on a clean toilet and read a magazine.
you doze but you wake, instead of a bed you have a seat, instead of a night table you've a tray table and a window that you may not open and there is a stranger beside you.
sit on your train, drive your car for hours, you aren't ever going to get there. you aren't ever going to step in and drop bags and hug loves and have your cat rub up to your leg, no, just drive through sunset sunrise, switch trains, cant remember which coast line, traveling towards something, unsure of where you came from because you haven't been there in what seems like an unmeasurable amount of time.
never arrive, only leave, only leave, only goodbye, goodbye, last kiss, last words, final moments, grand finales, goodbye parties. you only get on the train, you get on the train, you get on the train, your dad drives you to the station and you take that long island railroad on out. you get to the amtrak and you get on the train and you aren't allowed to stop, go to the port authority instead, take a bus you aren't allowed to ever come home because you are going away.
the minute you step off the island onto the mainland the whole place slips behind you like quicksand, and the long island sound bubbles over into the atlantic and you can just kiss it all goodbye.
you doze but you wake, instead of a bed you have a seat, instead of a night table you've a tray table and a window that you may not open and there is a stranger beside you.
sit on your train, drive your car for hours, you aren't ever going to get there. you aren't ever going to step in and drop bags and hug loves and have your cat rub up to your leg, no, just drive through sunset sunrise, switch trains, cant remember which coast line, traveling towards something, unsure of where you came from because you haven't been there in what seems like an unmeasurable amount of time.
never arrive, only leave, only leave, only goodbye, goodbye, last kiss, last words, final moments, grand finales, goodbye parties. you only get on the train, you get on the train, you get on the train, your dad drives you to the station and you take that long island railroad on out. you get to the amtrak and you get on the train and you aren't allowed to stop, go to the port authority instead, take a bus you aren't allowed to ever come home because you are going away.
the minute you step off the island onto the mainland the whole place slips behind you like quicksand, and the long island sound bubbles over into the atlantic and you can just kiss it all goodbye.