written waiting for a late train in Penn Station NYC

train station waiting on the last
late train
woman in beehive
and daisy dukes
while another in
impossibly tall shoes long eyelashes batting at
the pretty men
business travelers
wearing a path in the floor
how they tour
and turn
making deals with the air itself
and Amtrak personnel
create a new sign


and how the screeching never stops
yet it’s never right
and how the light

another group of models in beehive
so fitting before a trip
back to Baltimore

and how the light reflects.

a welcome home of sorts….

wheels rolling fast towards home —
stands in its stoic capital letters all lit up
and Peterbilt’s giving a smile
(perhaps a smirk) and
the logical lines of the plant that has no name
its horizontal pipes
leading the way

white smoke casually glances
and the piles piles piles of decay
or construction
give a deep bow

and in a near distance
the Natty Boh man
beckons with a neon

[author’s note on this: for better or worse, baltimore always has that knowing, that good natured ability to look at itself and take it all in with a slight* chip on the shoulder]