Alone in a cold train station, going where?
VAGABOND HEART BY MARYANNE CHRISANT
Vagabond heart just keeps hitchin’ along;
I been always whistlin’ a twisted little song.
Alone in a cold train station, going where? Do you know?
This time clear cross country where all the cowboys go.
Vagabond heart, in the bar room sits alone.
Empty eyes seek empty faces true hearts have never known.
Swagger boys ask casual, ever easy with the graces-
No thanks, kid, I’m not your kind. I’m bound for desert places.
My smokey blue aloneness, a blue piano plays;
Salty Margaritas begging me to stay.
On the edge of drunk in this lonely train stop dive,
Knowing that I am but working hard to feel alive.
Hobo of the highway gets aboard the train;
A problematic leaving, rusty razor cuts in pain.
I didn’t catch the caution speeding by me in the dark.
There’s nothing left but to regret
every going of my vagabond heart.
THE POET KNOWS BY MARYANNE CHRISANT
The Poet knows.
Her business is people.
What she sees …