The L Train

The L Train

Your slanted azure (sk)eyes;
with their brown splinters-
that cloud the black pupil, they
caught mine on that ride.

They held memories in
place; like that blue house
with the magenta ivy side,
which sat on the corner plot,
next to your house on our street.

The simple street we
ran when we were foot-racing,
when the wind felt like paint
brushes, bristling dry red
blush left in lines marking our
bodies:

Warriors of innocence.
Warriors of a grace conflicted.
Like bleeding red cuts for the sake of
never bleeding at all.

We would touch the brown
wood door, who still bore the
image of the oak tree it came from
within our own minds, then we
would sprint head-first

Back! To your lawn panting,
gasping for breath. Our lungs
clawed for consensus with
our brick-hued heart.

We looked to circulate
the blood they pump, the
same blood that courses now
on these tracks. Though, it
travels now in larger veins.

Of course, those weren’t your
(sk)eyes. Of course, they’ve never
seen the course we ran those days.
Of course though, only you and I
had ever seen the azure skies
and brown splinter clouds that
marked the course boundaries of our
racetrack all along.