Leaving

Her face twitches;
it’s late
on the ghost train;
riding the tracks, slanted towards home,
where the world there remains as empty
as midnight.

Listen to the poem: http://www.box.net/shared/static/0ne2sm0nz6.mp3

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When the entire car tilts as you had for the exit
it’s time for that diet

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she pretends everything is normal
the clackity clack,
the lights flashing
she is at the last stop
finally
whoosh