5:30 to frankfurt


a coffeehouse on wheels takes me
up and across back down through lands
efficiently quartered off
punctuated suddenly by small villages
known for their red roofs and stringent ways
only a train station here and there
reminds me that this trip will come to and end
and i want to ask the waiters how much they earn
maybe this is a living that can steal me away
from my favorite place on earth thus far
i look in the window and three faces
stare back at me in ghostly presence of
times past, times now, and times yet to come
ten years have passed but somehow
the only thing that’s changed is the ten years
that show themselves mysteriously in
new laugh lines around my eye corners
it’s never too late
to make something new


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