On the 12:30 from Denver to Omaha

He beams. He seems a little shallow,
Suit and tie, a laptop and a sheaf of
Boring-looking papers poised to slide
Off of the tiny table top in front of him.
“I'm going home.” He then goes on
At length to tell me what he'll find:
His darling wife, his lovely house, a
Pair of children, boy and girl, seemingly
Incapable of second place at anything.
I nod. His isn't like my home, which
Doesn't glow, not even here, some
Seven miles over empty Colorado
Grazing land. I'll be given things
To do, reminded of the ones I hadn't
Finished when I had to leave. My
Wife will curse the work she does.
My kids will come and go, one
To do the dead-end job which nets
Him just enough to pay for beers
At local bars, the other to the school
In which he seems to get his sleep,
And I'll be back to lugging pallets,
Plotting means of sharing minutes
With the woman who I love. All
That was will be the same, but, after
Rain and endless walking, motel
Rooms and dreadful food, I am
Keen for what I know, and I beam
Back at suit-and-tie. “I'm also
Going home.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 45 times
Written on 2015-03-19 at 11:25

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