Resurfacing

When she boards a train back to New York
to remind me that an ambivalent life
seldom crashes perfectly into place
regardless of the countless foxhole prayers
and promises to lesser gods

When she casually hints
that I should follow him to the ledge and beyond
and ask questions while fishing for compliments
and don't be surprised if all catch I is
more questions and minnows

And some answers should be structured without emotion
even though every syllable of every answer
is posed and sickening sweet

because lacking emotion is needed
to fill the space between two people
when there is nothing else
but air between

So ignore her warnings and lead with this line,
past the mustard colored barns,
and suburban tract housing and new brides,
round with the promises of the first child

as the train enters the concrete
blue and green of Penn Station
in this post apocalyptic City
you still call home