Fellow Travelers

In fluorescent-cold
Metal tubes
My practice is always
To study shoes.
I learned, I learned
The hard way.
Don't look
Too straight, too direct
It'll blow your heart
Out the back of your ribcage
Spattering the gray walls
With bits of bone and artery.
With advances in technology
Anybody can, with all
Convenience, talk loudly
To nobody at all.
The key is to keep all
Hands and feet inside
The moving vehicle
While dancing arabesques
Of compressed tears,
Compacted cries
With fingers in the air.

Betsy McKenzie
July 9, 2007