The Train

In your twenties, there will be a plane

or a train

or a bus

or a road

taking you away from your hometown,

and sometimes I wonder if I should've taken it. 

Is it better now, really? Am I?

Here, without the red leaves of my childhood or the quiet pride of the Midwest

there is no insurmountable urge to escape,

no calamitous confidence that I am the harbinger of destruction, 

no arrogant fear that I am unknowable. 

I now just run, for miles, and sit, in peace, and let things mean less than they do. 

Let myself change more than I used to. 

If I fear that I won't change back, well, that's between my mother and me.

This is the American Dream, they told me -- to evolve away from petty dread and into existential kinds.

But it's quite possible I'm as uninspired and manic as I've always been, 

spilling soup over the rim of my bowl &

splashing dips on the sleeves of my clothes &

hoping you don't notice that my voice cracks with hope 

every time I eat a meal and I'm not alone. 

The hardest part of this train is not the distance nor the speed, 

but that you cannot bring anything with you.

Baggage or passengers. 

So yes, I've become sentimental. 

I cry when other people do, and share my location with strangers. 

But somehow, I find myself settled. 

Perhaps uninspired and manic can still be complete, and

tsk tsk tsk poor me but 

I am rich because I met you and you never let me study alone

I am rich because I met you and you never let me cry for long

I am rich because I met you and you never let me leave unadorned

I am rich because I met you and you shield me from cars on the road

I am rich because I met you and you never let me miss you

I am rich because I met you and you never lie to me

I am rich because I met you and you always bring me luck

I am rich because I met you 

The more I want something the faster I should walk away

but I just run, for miles, towards a dream I am convinced I can chase

Here, without the deep snows of my youth or a heightened capacity for self-harm

there is still no golden panacea that makes me perfect,

still no day in which I discovered the cure,

still no person who should be burdened with knowing me,

besides me. 

In your twenties, there will be a plane,

or a train,

or a bus, 

or a road, 

taking you away from your hometown. 

It is very important you get on it.