Don’t Tell Me Where You’ve Been, Wanderlust Train

wanderlust love

for the train

that will wander with more lust

than i will ever be able to keep up with

and longer than i can stand to wait

for its return

from further away than i can imagine.

 

but its horn is a siren

that will turn my head

every time it passes my open window

even on the coldest night;

my ears will perk

in the silent frost and my

neck strains to bring them closer

to phantom sound.

 

and the distant click-clack

click-clack, an echo

endures from your last visit

a long row of memory

laden with other people’s cargo

your burden

now mine.

 

i tell myself

the whistle blares for me

and not some other wanderer

whose lust could never be as strong

as the love that waits on the crystal breeze

that circles around my bed posts

through my body

and fills the empty space

that sleeps beside me.