A Poem by bpark

freeverse poem, unfinished


In both eyes flash the streetlights

like dimming fireflies in the night.

I’m riding these borderline abandoned

city trains home from my cubed cubicle,

hoping to God I manage to never go back.

ninety-four stops it seems from mine so I

crack my neck first right then left and I

open my leather bound notebook to write:

"Not quite a poet

Not quite in love
Not quite a friend

Not quite a savior

Not quite a catalyst

Not quite a romantic

Not quite capable of a revolution,

even the one I’ll die without.”

grinding metal screams as the train slows;
I turn the page and sarcastically cross out
I close my eyes as the doors open, then shut,
rubbing them until movement straightens my back.
I can't shake the feeling of confusion and concern;
something’s different in here, something changed
at that station. It’s brighter all over, beautiful even.
I eye the cab and quickly unravel the answer to why.

it’s the woman sitting down the row, her legs crossed.
she’ll probably catch my stare. I really don’t care.
I wonder if she knows of her own perfection.
the disheartened look she gives says she doesn't.
A man is slumped next to her, he's drunk and asleep.
she attempts to hold his hand but he pulls away.
this a*****e doesn't deserve to share a train with her,
let alone conversate & love & make love with her.

I cross out 92, brakes squeal and the train stops again.
I quickly pack my things in disgust and stand up.
sighing loudly and shaking my head dramatically 

I walk past this pathetic, ungrateful shell of a man.
Then I bend down as I smile widely at the woman
so she has no choice but to notice; she smiles back.
I'd rather wait 30 minutes for the next train in this f%#@ing
blizzard than keep biting my tongue at this small tragedy.

© 2013 bpark

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It was wise, it was mundane, it was real. Beautifully written.

Posted 6 Years Ago

The imagery in this is great. Very original, I could see the bum and the beautiful woman on the train and oh! the mundane and redundant days that transpire. How many of us will to break through.

Posted 7 Years Ago

Bottle cap frustration,this drug continues to amaze me,soo much on the train,a hundred bottles of beer on the wall.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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3 Reviews
Added on December 19, 2012
Last Updated on February 25, 2013
Tags: freeverse, poem, poetry, ranted-tirades



Salt Lake City, UT

Three Verbs Three Verbs

A Poem by bpark