Apart From (on the LIRR)

Why does being on the Long Island Rail Road always make me so depressed?

Maybe it's staring at my eyes reflecting specks of light of the world with my forehead pressed against the cold window.

Whatever it is, it stretches my heart too thin and my blood feels like water and my veins throb-- longing for a thickness again-- for something sweet and thick and right.

And always, it's on the return-- the return to a life not a part of anything... an isolated life that I've felt since I began to write... perhaps even to think.

My eyes looked beautiful on that video-- ringed and sinking, sparkling but glazed over. As if everything was imbued with the meaning that I've always seen there...

The train is shaking, so I have to pause.

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Anyway, I just changed trains at Jamaica, but it's too cold to write!