Sestina Train

January 3, 2011
By thewisegoat BRONZE, New Orleans, Louisiana
thewisegoat BRONZE, New Orleans, Louisiana
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The idea drifted by me while opening a book,
The decision to escape, to run,
Taking only the shredded remains of some Converse,
The memory cowering behind my brain. I step on the train.
How could I get any more lost?
I thought, sinking into a checkered seat.

We snaked forward, and I was spit from my seat.
From a rack above, the unfriendly cover of a book
Thunders down, and again I was lost.
Unconsciousness told me I was on the run,
But when I flickered back to life, the train
Had stilled. You’re lost, said my Converse.

I shot up, made an attempt to converse
With a face, then abandoned my seat.
I wiggled to the front. No, no, no. The train
Doors were sliding- sealing shut like a book.
Foiling attempts to run
Out into an unknown maze, get even more lost.

But what does it matter? As long as I’m lost,
I don’t care. Those trusty Converse
Will carry me anywhere, they’ll trip and run
As long as I do. They won’t deceive.
They weren't the pair who hurled book
At me, caused me to get on this train

Or ever deluded my impulsive train
Of crazy thought. Everything lost.
Sunny rebellion, but always playing by the book.
My parents and I used to converse,
But they didn't understand, tried to seat
Me like a simple child. I just had to run.

Now we’re stopping in a place called Shaighrun.
A new city, new life, untampered terrain.
Build a new empire in China, take my seat
In the mist, somewhere lost
To only me and my faithful Converse.
No more scavenging for a cheap ticket to book,

For there’s no reason to run, I'm comfortably lost.
No condescending people trying to train me, or to converse.
My old seat far away is empty, free for somebody else to book.

The author's comments:
Written in Sestina form.

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