Poem on the Fly #1
by Lisa Walsh-Miller

    So I'm on the train and there's this
    kid who started talking about Jesus to
    a woman sitting down, him standing,
    she kept saying "Excuse me?"
    Because she couldn't quite hear his soft crazy voice
    Above the noise of the train his skin so black
    so smooth, silken. This beautiful black man
    He was a child once I kept thinking
    She was a child once.
    This guy sitting next to her avoiding the cadence of their
    Nutty conversation he was a child once.
    So there I am swaying and holding
    on dreaming, dreaming,
    holding on swaying
    Listening to this crazy, crazy
    Speak and feeling the rhythm of the
    Train and all of a sudden,
    I am flying above them looking down on them.
    Free, not part of them, but rising outside of the
    Metal confines of the train car.






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