This is what it looks like on the train on a rainy day.
Fat drops of water pelt the windshield glass;
through the blur, people are color in motion.
The train doors whoosh open and shut
as the people of color hop on and off,
on their way to home, work, or secret destinations.
Some will find money or lust or murder when they arrive;
others will be lucky and find love.
Those who only have lonely gray thoughts peer out the window
and wonder when the rain will stop to let sunshine in.
the city roads that wind, slick with moisture,
stretching time and the trip to wherever.
Yet the journey each one makes in their mind
is longer, more torturous in its windings,
more cunning in its twists and turns.
Far more devious are the journeys of the heart
even as their hearts break and beg for another day, another hour
with the beloved.
Still the rain comes down relentless
washing away the doubt the sin the pain
until all that remains is the blur of love lost and gained
and beating hearts looking for the way home.