the fourth poem in my Kind of Blue series. here are the first three:

So What
Freddie Freeloader
Blue in Green

and here's "All Blues". the title works as a link to the actual song as well

All Blues

waited above wabash ave on an empty platform
save for the two pigeons hunting for crumbs,
pecking at something like gum or love wedged
tight between the floorboards.

the train came slowly to a stop
dripping with a light summer rain.
i took a step on and found a seat
by a window watching the drops
begin to slide sideways.
rolling between skyscrapers,
i watched the businessmen work late hours
and down below, witnessed children
cover their ears as the rattling train
sped by over their heads.

my thoughts were interrupted then
by a softer voice speaking at the front of the car,
a woman in tattered clothes with burn marks,
frayed hair with a bald spot,
and a wrinkled neck with a birth scar
the shape of a crescent moon.
she was talking to no one in particular,
rather to a man in a poster ad for reading glasses.
those on board looked scared,
mothers wrapped an instinctual arm
around their children while others
found newer seats at a further distance
from this woman as high
as a skyline pigeon.

i admit that i was shifting in my seat too,
especially when she started giggling
at the jokes that the man
in the picture must've been whispering;
and at the way she blushed
and became all coy when she said "yes"
to something he must've asked.

then suddenly, she danced
with sweeping strides between the aisle
holding her casanova's hands.
the children were now cowering
in their mothers' jackets,
the rest were hastily getting off the next stop,
and whether it was theirs or not didn't matter
because this waltzing woman
was conversing with thin air,
and we were always taught
to never stare at crazy, let alone
acknowledge that it's simply there.

soon everyone was gone,
scrambling for reality, and i too
couldn't watch her any longer.
i stepped off at the chinatown stop,
a mile and a half away from my car.
but standing on the platform
i looked at her through the window,
still dancing, still laughing,
as luminescent as she probably looked
as a little girl.

and as the train started creeping away,
i caught her in the act
of grabbing her partner's ass, mid-dance
and i couldn't help but start giggling,
even long after the train had passed.
it rolled slowly into a laugh
and out the corner of my eye,
i saw people wearing the expression
of 'there's a crazy guy over there
but i don't want to stare.'
and with that i absolutely lost it.
here, My Dear, here it is
Last edited by SubwayToVenus at Jun 11, 2010,
This made me happy.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
I bookmarked this. Great idea, great execution. I can't wait for Flamenco Sketches. I call dibs on A Love Supreme.

A Love Supreme
A Love Supreme...

First lines are ready, ha.
Quote by Skibolky
No one can really fuck with the power of empathy.
thanks you two. yeah, just repeat that line fifteen more times and you got Acknowledgement down
here, My Dear, here it is