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.