Chased by Ghosts

I hear
Them from behind.
Distorted echoes fade.
And know that like the times before,
It is no use at all to strain my ear.

I still, though, think that this time I will hear.
So I try to distinguish more.
But although I have prayed,
What do I find?
I fear.

Night in the Train Station

After scanning the floor, a lucky break:
There's a bench with an open seat I can take.
Forty-two minutes, my train will arrive,
I sip my coffee: stay awake, stay alive.

Two nearby hobos fight loudly and curse,
"But," I think to myself, "It could always be worse."
And when I get up, I confirm what I think:
In the men's room a man cleans his socks in the sink

I glance at the clock, must be soon, I believe,
But thirty more minutes until my reprieve.
The piped in music's rhythm competes
As a crackhead's rhythmic mantra repeats.

"I don't know, I don't  know, I don't," he intones
While most of us hide our heads in our phones.
I get up once more; find a new bench again,
With eighteen more minutes till I see my train.

A brief pause in this concert: a policeman walks by.
And for a moment I let out a sigh.
My new benchmate smells of many foul things,
And a few feet behind me a raspy voice sings.

Nine minutes remain in this unwanted storm
So I start to meander towards the platform
When suddenly I hear the loudspeaker say
"Just hold on there, fella, there's been a delay."

The passengers turn at this new renege
Avoiding eye contact like it was the plague.
I close my eyes tightly; fall back in my seat,
A Sisyphean encore, the show will repeat.

Beautiful sunsets frighten me

Pretty pinks sink fast,
Replaced above by Navy.
In the east, black waits.

Compass

The night is dark, the forest deep
I hear many a fright'ning sound
A howl, a snap, I dare not sleep
The once-wide path can not be found.

Searching above won't help my plight
I only see the canopies
The leaves have blocked my view tonight
I can't see through them, past the trees

And even when i catch a glance
Of sky between the leafy crouds
I see that I still have no chance:
The sky's obscured by rolling clouds

And yet, shortsighted I remain
I need no sky to guide my way.
Beyond the stars I'll place my aim.
You'll guide me to the light of day.