Passengers of a One Track Mind
Dear reader, I am a commuter. Maybe you are, too. In that case, we are linked. The “Commuter” trademark is a badge we wear. That label has been stamped on the soles of my shoes, on the lapel of my coat, on the ticket that burns in my pocket. As a commuter, I have heard languages from every corner of the Earth whispered against the complaining brakes of a train. As a commuter, I have gotten to know towns through a picture frame, a traveling show, always different yet always the same. As a commuter, I have felt solace every time I find a seat that, by some mercy, has not been taken. As a commuter, I am connected to strangers for a fleeting moment in time, the course of each one of our lives meeting on a train car – several parts becoming one whole. We are all passengers of a one track mind. . .
PASSENGERS OF A ONE TRACK MIND
By Janice Hillman
Storm clouds wrapped in steel
Bent and shaped to be real
“Watch the gap” warns the sign
Beckoning at my heels
Saturated in the dripping dawn
The yellow brick road shines
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
The peak of a whistling spell
The train is a hollow shell
We are one heartbeat to be bought
The floor, a dried up wishing well
Conversation has become stale
Lose a penny for your thoughts
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
The “click” of a girl’s compact
Echoes the “clack” of the track
Lipstick kissed coffee cups
Remnants from morning flood back
Pastel daydreams pave the way
Only to bleed into watercolors and erupt
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
A picture frame of the day
Always changing yet always the same
In the street, a blossom flirts with a bottle cap
Side banks give way to memories gone astray
A medley of misplaced misfortunes
Bestowed purpose for a moment in the window’s gap
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
Eyes behold ink-stained phantoms
Grasping tickets stamped for wisdom
Only to barrel down a path of lies
A train is nothing more than a loaded gun
Full of hungry, longing souls
Chasing facts and falsehoods like butterflies
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
Wrinkled suits and pencil skirts
Worn out heels and untucked shirts
Fingertips streaked on windows
Like spirits aching to break through
Rushing to get nowhere fast
Blurry passions that come and go
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
Tender rain just out of reach
Do not weep for me
I have seen the distant glimmering shores
I am among those who learn and teach
I hold fire in my eyes, burning
Am I bent by my desires or yours?
Passengers of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lie between
The to-and-fro
Metropolis plain in sight
Beacon of hope and might
I am not made of steel, I am molded from flesh
My reflection is a rosy foresight
No longer looking outward, but in
Open vault doors, open my eyes afresh
I was once a passenger of a one track mind
Trying desperately to find
That which lies between
The to-and-fro
Only to find myself back at the start
Set free