these trains are passing me by. i turn the page of my newspaper and inhale the last of a cigarette, flicking it onto the tracks. soft and cool the leaves are rubbing against my legs, and i remember i have left my things at the bus stop. not the first time i suppose. my hat shades my eyes from the midday sun, i look east and see my train.

and so these words are running through my head over and over until they wear down my memory leaving grooves and a rut for me to fall into. do i find my bags?

maybe someone will find them for me. i guess i wouldn't mind too much if i lost my things. maybe that next person will leave their things behind also and i will be the lucky one. and maybe someday in an unfamiliar city i will meet an unfamiliar person..and we won't even know what we once shared. and so it goes.

this is the transient and evasive lifestyle of my generation. i do hope to move past this..yet it clings to me so gently. why do i find such meaning in these small unimportant things? do i describe fleeting pleasures or am i hinting at an underlying contentment?

this calls for a discerning mind.

he who has ears let him hear, and he who has eyes let him see.

i hope to be that man soon.