Tenements: Train's Eye View

We know the place you speak of: beautiful country.

A matter of time and motion, how we went there,

A matter of vehicle only, color and melody

Flapping from landings, airing in the smoke of the

train,

Afterwards motes in a sunpatch, piecemeal stimuli,

Not to be confused with the street signs seen so plain.

Riding around forever in a rattling cranium

Along with uncoupled railings, cleverly draped

In occasional figures watering limp geranium,

Semidescriptive bedmounds, probably shaped

Of tenth floor crowding and hot night, harrowing

strain,

Hangers-out in the morning hungering listless

After the wind of movement, string of airs

Made by our passage. Faces, afterwards motes,

Acutely individual, intimate glimpses:

Curtain, a dashing symbol, kittenish gay

With its cheap red dye, caught back for a soundless

shouting,

Shaking of fists; or the violin owning the boy,

Mahogany cheek aglint in the study of notes:

A matter of vehicle only, purely a problem

Of transportation, we haven't returned to the

scenes

You mention; we know the language naturally,

Thumbing the travelers' manual, certain it's true

Those people like their lives. We're well acquainted

By sign and symbol, catapulting through.

Dorotuy Cow es PINKNEY