Trains

Buckets of rain
Buckets of tears
Got all them buckets coming out of my ears
Buckets of moonbeams in my hand
You got all the love honey baby
I can stand

The sky is somehow still bright and blue even though it's pouring rain.  I didn't even realize it was raining until I turned from my book and looked out the train window while pushing my sunglasses to their normal resting place on top of my head.  Its late Sunday afternoon and Jersey seems eerily still.  My first thought was "everyone in Jersey must have been vaporized by aliens."  Though I am quite sure this is not the case. 

I been meek
And hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive friends will disappear
If you want me honey baby
I'll be here

I've been on this train too long to only be in Rahway.  I think we're going backwards.  To the right of the train is a sheer drop.  I won't even guess how high it may be.  I have no idea.  These trains move much too slow as proven by the Acela which sneaks up behind us on the left and passes with such speed that I feel like an elephant is sitting on my head.  I imagine the train I'm on tipping to the right from the Acela's force and tumbling to the ground.  I can't help but smile as I picture myself mangled and bloodied, impaled by a giant piece of twisted train or broken window. 

Everything about you is bringing me
Misery

I'm quickly losing patience with myself and the squeal of the train's wheels along the tracks isn't helping.  I wish They would close the door but the air conditioning isn't working in this car and They feel the sound of an 8 penny nail hairbrush dancing across a chalkboard is better then the heat and humidity of a closed train car.  Maybe They're right.  Who am I to judge?  Though I suppose the same goes for Them.

Little red wagon
Little red bike
I ain't no monkey but I know what I like

A Greek, tattooed, atheist, musician goes to a party and is surrounded by pale, Jesus loving Irish folk.  They were the most normal people I have ever met in my life.  I felt like a fig tree in the middle of a corn field. 

I like the way you love me strong and slow
I'm taking you with me honey baby
When I go

The rain has stopped and started a few times by now.  Currently its back to pouring.  This time however the open car is filling with cool air.  Still damp, but cool.  Its refreshing while coupled with the sound and smell of buckets of rain.

Life is sad
Life is a bust
All ya can do is do what you must

The train is picking up speed.  No doubt going forward as well.  What can be seen of the sun is a fireball to the west burning a hole through the storm clouds which are now no more substantial then rice paper in that spot.  To the east is the heavily clouded steel blue glowing sky that you only see with a summer storm.  Today is almost over.  Tonight I will curl up in my own bed for the night but for only one night before I'm off again.

 

thoughts from a beach chair

Bathing suit.  Sun screen.  Beach chair.  Alone.  :)  I love to lay in the sun mostly naked and feel the sudden flush of heat as the water in my body seeps out of every pore.  Today is going to be a good day.       

The beach chair smells a little funky.  It's probably been 2 summers since its been removed from the musty crawl space.  It smells of dirt and rust and hot.  

I hate to admit that I hate every person I know today... and every one I don't.  I woke up cranky and need to learn to not log into facebook on those days.  I have had 3 Libras in my head since.  Its been difficult for me to find the space in between where I fit.  Fit easily and securely and without question every time.  Though I suppose there never is a place that is completely without question.

This will be my first summer in 4 without an adventure laid out in front of me.  I wonder what will become of the road trips, the anticipation, the butterflies, the "cd of the summer" with the indelible impressions of great adventures.  I guess I'll have to make my own and fly a little more spontaneously.  With only a hint of sadness, the disappointment abounds and I realize my heart is still there, buried safe and scabby.  But the sun is hot on my skin and I'm slowly relaxing one muscle and one thought at a time.



I remember our toilet flushing, light flickering ghost.


I remember the Providence Potato Heads.


I can still feel your warmth as you held me in the kitchen when I was unable to hold back the tears any longer.  


I see our sundresses and floppy hats on our trip through Sonoma Valley while the east coast was digging out of a blizzard.


I remember the ease with which you handed me your car keys for me to drive myself back home 2 states away.


I remember our cinnamon snow falling in slow motion outside the old man bar.


And the energetic smile in your voice over the phone for our first conversation in 15 years and the taste of your cigarettes after our first visit in 20 years.


And I remember seven goodbyes.... all different and all taking their own little piece of me with them.  I'm getting used to it all.

But mostly I like to remember that goodbyes don't always happen and sometimes aren't forever and even if they are there's always that look on your face that first time you saw me out on the sidewalk in my best sundress.