Subway

anything to steal the mind away-
desperate ocean shore.
and the narcotic balm sleeping like...
dew, on the desert floor.
Excuse me miss,
with your lips pursed-
wondering if I gave you the impression;
no, better still,
if you somehow guessed
(by my eyes or...)
oh,
seems you have to leave.
Well,
only good things go away.
and here it sits
promising to stay forever!
ah, but by this time all is forever.
the pulsing at my temples,
the shaking of these hands,
the embers behind these eyes.
And in the pit-
the very basest bottom even!
grows a hunger for
(no, not love even- not this night)
only understanding.
Anything to steal the mind away-
the elderly shaking returns to youthful hands;
but what really is age?
(but a curse)
When I sit back,
glancing up-
the fluorescent lights still sting
and I recall the thoughts:
the metal staircase,
moving endlessly without a soul to climb her...
In complete solitude,
with no one watching nor noticing.
But, come stranger to beg my hand
come stranger to fly me off into the night.
My time has so endlessly come;
and so I dissolve-
still rejecting that which resembles me,
that which reflects me.
The lights scream past my head,
and the night
(overwhelmed by plastic day)
takes my material self over land and sea.
Looking for ANYTHING,
to steal the mind away.

(c) David Griffin Brown 1998

Subway anything to steal the mind away- desperate ocean shore. and the narcotic balm sleeping like... dew, on the desert floor. Excuse me miss, with your lips pursed- wondering if I gave you the impression; no, better still, if you somehow guessed (by my eyes or...) oh, seems you have to leave. Well, only good things go away. and here it sits promising to stay forever! ah, but by this time all is forever. the pulsing at my temples, the shaking of these hands, the embers behind these eyes. And in the pit- the very basest bottom even! grows a hunger for (no, not love even- not this night) only understanding. Anything to steal the mind away- the elderly shaking returns to youthful hands; but what really is age? (but a curse) When I sit back, glancing up- the fluorescent lights still sting and I recall the thoughts: the metal staircase, moving endlessly without a soul to climb her... In complete solitude, with no one watching nor noticing. But, come stranger to beg my hand come stranger to fly me off into the night. My time has so endlessly come; and so I dissolve- still rejecting that which resembles me, that which reflects me. The lights scream past my head, and the night (overwhelmed by plastic day) takes my material self over land and sea. Looking for ANYTHING, to steal the mind away. (c) David Griffin Brown 1998