Katie Greaves
Sits and watches as the train leaves;
In and out, in and out,
Dark tunnel to no-light at the end.

Katie Greaves
Sits on a bus going nowhere,
Rain pouring and mist curling,
Takes out her notebook and breathes.

Katie Greaves
Sits in a car as the engine heaves,
Gazes at the world and trees going by,
And life makes sense.

Katie Greaves
Sits in the airport and looks at white;
Blue, blue, blue – deeper than space,
Makes a circle around his face and believes.

Katie Greaves
Sits on a boat and thinks of weaves
There’s the sunset – all gold,
And down by the head she goes.

She has fingers that itch like spiders
To walk along the silk-threaded cables
That keep the trains moving and running;
She feels victimized like a fly in Grand Central.

Her brain festers and rots inside this prison,
This rectangular prison that has but one –
Only one – destination and it’s empty;
Reminds her of her therapist’s words.

This ride from Hell just got worse,
And if she had any more sense –
Which is slow to inhale and digest –
She’d stop kicking the dead thing’s weight.

The plane ascends higher and higher,
She wishes this dream would end already –
Just so she can locate her feet again –
And crushes his picture to her tight.

She fantasizes about her childhood
And regrets sooner that she does so –
What is love when there is no beating heart?
– but the water is warmer beneath her feet.

Katie Greaves
Sits and looks at the desperate towns –
Around her and with her on this journey –
Thinks of everything and nothing,
And lives up to her name.

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