Pinned to the Station Door   

Dear Karen,
I've waited as long as I could
But then with the rain,
wet and weighty as it is,
well,
I want to get home.
You don't blame me, do you?
I missed two trains
while I waited
in the rain.
And the passion of our one good day
(or maybe there were two),
kept me company.
But it's plain,
you're busy
and I have to go,
get out of this rain.

Dear Karen,
I'm not too far ahead.
If you get this in time,
I'm walking the line
along the tracks
heading home in the rain.
Actually, to be honest,
I don't mind the rain,
wet and weighty music, that it is.
I just need to be moving.
Heading home.
You understand, don't you?
I couldn't wait anymore.

You must be busy.

The trains have stopped coming.

(Maybe you caught a bus.
Yeah, or a taxi
And you're waiting up ahead
And this is just…

a waste…

of paper.)

Dear Karen,
Do you see the kerosene stain on the floor?
It's a reminder of something that was
quite volatile at one time,
but has since evaporated.

Don't you see? It's a temporary tattoo.
Like passion in this ceaseless rain of teeming music,
these wet and weighty notes of our Requiem,
it will soon be washed away.

My train is here,
a different destination.

Stay dry, Karen.

Love,
Michael.

© 2006 Michael Hogan