I hate the ordinary,
And you know that’s true.
Because I’m not ordinary.
What do you want to do?
“I am on the 6:05 train,”
Types the albino woman with sunglasses.
I see it. Let’s think about that for awhile.
We hurtle into Lynn, listening to Ravel.
Not really. I said that to sound interesting.
I’m saying all of this to sound like I have style.
That’s all the poets have left these days.
I think she’s British.
The albino. Don’t ask her if it’s true.
I’m really alone. Though I think I’m on this train with you.
