Hobo's Life (AKA Detour Road)

Hobo's Life (aka "Detour Road”)

Stuck in a ditch waiting
for the train to pick up my life.
dusting off past ruins while mud
sticks to my shoes I climb aboard
and bounce along the bumpy tracks.
booties and rings fit snug in a
pothole but my four walls don't fit
14 carat holes.

Test sirens ring and the train moves slower.
It's always a drill,
never the real thing.
ignorance is bliss when reality burdens,
the cold metal does its job and keeps me
grounded when i want to fly. words are daggers
and only a heart transplant can repair old wounds.

Arms are the only thing keeping me
in the train, his span over 800 miles
but all I get are dirty fingers
and hollow desserts. I want the three course meal dangling
from his breath, I want the three words caught in the breeze.

My shoulders are heavy and my bag light,
there is no place for a sojourner’s soul
so I ride on this ghostly train
in hopes of a pothole home.