Blue shirt against black train seat
-reading paper in German
helped figure out the mechanism
to no avail.
Without speaking, mute,
point and turn,
dipping a foot in
the water,
Testing, feeling spongy,
soaking.
Still maneuvering the black seat,
& blue, green, and white
sit idly by.
Wah-cha-cha
Wah-cha-cha, moves out
again.
Blonde, Brunette, Balding
--types standing by.
Cigarettes smoking,
coffee steaming,
work has never looked
so blessed.
Sunflowers cover the magazine's
being held by hangers.
Earphones in, patiently
aside an ashtray,
Bag over right shoulder
opened to pass the
time.
Lake or river passing by.
Green/Gray at the bottom
of the valley, in the distance,
climbing up the hills
with my eyes--
Coming to a speckle
of white houses
orange roof.
Stone, and pastel,
matte--
Clouds covering the countryside,
Overcasting the villages
of so many,
minutiae, ants along
the dirt mountain.
Cemeteries skirting the
edges and chasing the
pink to the walls--
The next house
and so forth.
Lines of living dwellings
separated
by the vastness that can be.....farms?
or maybe just grazing land?
Snow in the distance
spotting the ground--
with trees poking through
like hair on the neck.
Crooked, cut-down, leaning
towards
the sun, and lack
there-of.
Cabin surrounded by the shade,
hidden to the passer-by.
Queer to see such history painted,
with satellite dishes.
Modern amenities to make
you feel more at home--
distance me from actual belonging.
Crawling by glass roof, must be
greenhouses, tennis courts, and
futbol field.
Red clay matching the pigment of the stones
sheltering the majority--
with chimney's one and all.
White rooms, closets,
floors wet, dungy.
First stop, Salzburg station, trains across
3 tracks look as tho they're red double
buses, with a green, army green car,
right next to the window, flashes
of drafts, and worse times. War times.
Times are now, with oil filling our gullets.
Oil makes the world go round', the world go round'
the world go round'.
Cleaner air reserved
for pure of heart, or soul,
who cares?
Actually.
