off the rails

i cannot live with how much i destroy myself

the things i do to get through the day

getting out of plans to eat alone

looking at a sploched face i don’t recognize

in the mirror

i’m that lego lighthouse i threw on the floor

when mom and dad wouldn’t stop arguing

i’m colorful blocks each empathy

love art passion myself

scattered on the carpet for want

for want of privilege a building

is false anyway in its name it’s a verb

a verb falling like my name off the tongue

with no meaning left

a lighthouse with no light a child with no toy

in one hand a fork the other a razor blade

amtrak bathroom mirror just goin

without any place i know to be destination

without poetry without music contre jour

to make it through one night more

not to think not to feel just to buy

a little more pain flying off the rails

being born and dying between metal tracks

and always over different rail ties

but always over two that look the same

—August 2021, Southwest Chief Train (CHI to ALBQ)