Monday, March 07, 2011
I was sitting in the dining car of our train to New York. Matt was reading, and I was snapping pictures; I wanted to do something else. This is what I did for a leg of our trip. I was impressed by the things that I saw, so I wrote.
In another entry I will post pictures that coincide with the ramblings, but I wanted to put this first, so the pictures wouldn’t take away from my thoughts.
Rollin down the track
heading to my destination
views of life, pass me by,
spark an interest in my mind
of lives traveled, life’s reviewed,
where did they come from
where are they going
only they know.
Quaint towns, with dilapidated houses pass me by.
Where do they come from, where have they been
Do they know that other people are peeking into their lives, as they cruise on a rail?
Empty industrial buildings, forests full of ivy. Cars that look like they have seen better days. What is their past, how can I know? What makes them smile, what joys do they feel? What sadness do they know?
Water ways full of wild life being hunted by rods and reels. Do they know that what they see is a danger to them, or does the bobbing bait tease them into thinking that all is well, and they are with friends, and that food is right in front of them? Only they know what they feel they minute that they take the bait.
White, blue, grey, yellow blue, red and green is all around.
Square, round, rectangular and pentagonal shapes in town, who works in them, what do they do while they inhabit those building that look like a shoe? Are they working for the greater good, or just for the greater to make it good?
Sad, happy, gloomy, ecstatic, melancholy, joyous. all these tract houses remind me of lives that might be, all of these feelings, or just wandering through with no destination in mind.
Dropped here, dropped there, dropped anywhere, but really where they should be. T-shirts, paper towels, old cellphones, sneakers, wood slabs, paint cans, old tires and milk containers. What prevents people from picking them up and putting them in the right receptacle?
White buildings adorned with spires, breathe of happiness and tears; what would the walls say if they could speak? Would they tell us about the mother who lost her child to a gun that wasn’t supposed to be in another’s hand? Would they tell us of a glamorous wedding that united two lovers after trying to find each other for decades, only to loose that loved one a few years later to a devastating disease? Or would they tell us of baptisms, of babies with dimpled chins in white gowns, singing with gusto from the mouth of a fine young man with a tenor vibrato, sweet Easter dressed preschoolers with baskets adorned with stuffed bunnies, candy, decorated eggs, and flowers after a hunt on the day of the risen Lord, and about a minister who is praising the congregation for a selfless service rendered to another member who needed love and understanding?
Industrial buildings with splattered walls of rainbow tinted paint and broken shattered windows pass my window. I wonder what they in their grander state produced. Did they produce car parts,lightening products for offices, mattresses for our beds? How many people worked in these brown bricked monstrosities? What happened to them after the buildings production’s slowed down and the man told them that they were closing it all down? Is this why all the neighborhoods are so quiet, full of trash and blighted, and dirt covered yards are seen, instead of the green grass, flower beds and people who had once sat at night nursing a coca cola on their front stoops to enjoy the breeze before heading to bed and getting up in the morning to start all over again.
Grand Farm houses on rolling wheat colored hills with big green barns pop into view- what in the world? All I have seen is dreariness and then sunlight to the eyes which spreads into my heart, and on to my mouth where a huge smile breaks out! What a joy to my senses this one little glimpse gives me and then in a split second on to another industrial wasteland…
Bridges of all sizes, block and brick, stone and metal fill my eyes. Are they still used? Can the small ones really hold the weight of cars made now a days? They look so fragile, so resemblant of a toy train set. The large expanses of river bridges loom in the distance with speeding cars and thundering trucks to unknown destinations.
rivers role from left to right, disappear in pure sight. Where did they come from where are they going? What happens when they hit the ocean or do they? Hum mm… I wonder.
New York full of options
New York full of crowds
New York full of pigeons
that can poop on your parade.
New York full of glamour
if only you know where to look.
New York full of sadness
if you take the wrong turn.
New York bright with lights
dark with intrigue and danger
all these things make New York
what it is.
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