not long enough

in this sad world
deprived of it's full spectrum
america
only world i know
at times i am compelled to weep
instead
stay up late
drink alone with the ceiling fan
one open curtain
overlooking a wall of vines
listen
to trains moaning blues in the distance
reminds me
of
Robert Johnson
Son House

sometimes
i count my blessings
remind myself that at least
i'm white
as sick as that silver-lining is
america

sometimes
i walk down to the tracks
where come across trains resting
there
in the night
i pat them on the belly
tell them that one day
they will be set loose
from the steel bounds
of their servitude

how that might come about
i keep to myself

if there is a moon
i look up toward the moon
and
think to myself
"life is long,
not long enough."