Doc Martins--
Concrete from NYC
to Chicago and Albuquerque--
Santa Fe, hey hey,
to visit Adri and Jay--
Open armed strangers
knitted quilts; dogs jumped
and lapped up the drool
from a 30 hour train ride--
"all aboard, who're staying aboard,"
and I watched the friends I had met
Shane and his 17 year old child baring wife
who'd beg me to help her
settle into something
a little less permanent
whenever he'd take the baby back
to their compartment,
"I hadn't had a gentle touch,
or a quick fuck,
in god know's what"
Shame; Shane'd come back
and we'd sway forth and back,
looking for scraps

30 dollar Amtrak feasts
must've been too rich for
the fine dining
class, because we took handfuls
as carts would dart by--
"Coo" he would blow towards the baby,
Grabbing my finger
Silver seemed to dazzle
as wheat never seems to stay still
on a 26 hour train ride

I missed Chicago--Marco,
His flight home-- I had given him Xannax,
I was still hung to hell
Irish boys and Australian kids--
Maxime speaking spanish
slightly spoken with a French Accent--

Ah, and my beloved German Gem;
Valerie;
I hit my head on the train, and Shane
And I smoked a cigarette on the rail cart--

"If you want to hangout,
grab a bite,
catch a show--
play guitar for us,
we'd love you have you.