riding a crazy train.
i’ve been on the roof, surfing.
i’ve been on the caboose, waving.
i’ve been in the dining car, mostly serving.
the bunks are okay. i get to sleep.
the scenery is actually amazing.
but the train doesn’t stop, and if i try to step off,
i am reminded of the confines and the steady pace.
i like the pretty colors.
i like how fast it drives.
i like how hard it hits the bends.
i miss the rest of the world.
i see the valleys and mountains and the farms;
i wish i was able to get off the train and visit.
i’d like to meet those people who live in the cottages,
eating their simple meals with bread and wine.
as crazy as this train is, it doesn’t wreck.
it doesn’t stop.
it stays on the track.
all the time.
but there is only one track.
and only one conductor.
and the view and the cars are getting stagnant and i keep recycling the air.
i’ve tried some oil, i even bought some tickets,
but the track just continues.
i kinda want my own train.
where i get to decide which way to go.
when to sleep.
what to eat.
where to go.
and i don’t even need a track.
a train that flies.
that’s what i want for Christmas.
a flying train.