TheFeatheredSleep – A woman sits on a train. Simple? Oh, there’s more to it than that.
The compartment car is mostly steel
Or some approximate
Covered with the languid stains left
Has thick calves
A girl told her once, as they sat cross-legged deciding whether to emulate
A kissing scene from The Breakfast Club
She was no Molly, her legs had strength, once she danced from midnight to 5am in a cage
For fifty dollars and now she knows
How long she can stand, without needing to stop.
The linoleum is probably doused in chemicals
Every Thursday by a white haired man with heavy shoulders, from stooping
Her skin touched the plastic, hotly
And like a rejected lover, pulled away, only to return when
The train drew a breath and weazed into another
Convulsion of movement
From painting and the liberal use of terpentine
Back then she paid no heed, dropping cigarette ash
Hoping for fire.
A lover once…
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