Train of Thought

Steely wheels have been rushing in and out of my head for a while.

Emerging with a wail protesting metal-on-metal abuse right into my regrets.

Tired and exhausted, they arrived somewhere between

'Damn the stock market!'

and

'Oh, I should call mom.'

I was dashing behind my last train of thought

when you interrupted me platforming along my anxieties, and asked for help.

We both looked directionless.

Between my coffee-stained pondering

and your nervous energy

-- you did dance delicately beside me as if the floor was needles, and you intended to run this marathon barefoot --

we figured it out.

You, at least, knew where it was you are going,

and I am adapt at lying to the ticket machine.

Saved you a tenner, didn't I?

I sat back down journeying inward

when a thunderstorm between my temples escaped outside.

A foul-mouthed, many-headed beast appears in the hall fleeing its onslaught.

It hadn't rained for months,

yet it cursed every little assault of water hitting this city

as if bombs weren't always our own fault.

Minutes pass, the beast moves on,

and I watch your train leave the station.