A detachment is there in every train ride,
I goes on and on with hair splashing and senses dissolving in moments.
Men invented time,
I despise that.
I am moving and my handicapped time getting old, getting youths and waving with no hands.
I am here inside this locomotive and getting one poem at a dream.
My girls, my disappearing family, my old dog all in infinities…
Don’t rhyme with me…I throw bottles at rhymes,
Give me liquored infinities.
I am in my detachment with a motel by the station,
I will make love with this time untill the next train comes.