Actually talking

Like silk and soft cliches, these roses dance
Right here, on this train to San Antonio
They laugh about mundane delays,
Wrought-iron tracks, reports on weather
Slow days instead take on their scent
Time in arms
Plied with color, rejecting cold
Warm and free and so cocooned
Arrival evokes no excitement
No apathy, no thought
All is melted, faded, a watermark
Except this focal moment of jade-free cavorting
On our way to Texas through this smooth pillow of a night

For Serious

Seriously, this time. I'm working at everything I do, to see if I can every day. It's not that much now, maybe. But what if, one day, everything is turquoise? It could gel this way. I'm thinking at this instant I'm too lucky to be granted this vision. I've achieved what I have received by chance. I've survived little, and learned too many things that are starkly academic. But these trees are in the seas of the past. I will do what I can, and try to motivate the courage, in me and everyone. What else can I do? This is all I have to offer. Yet still, I am a bit untamed. I still wonder what I am capable of. I know it's more than what I do now, but is any of it enough or relevant? I'm enjoying each moment of the chaos immensely, but in the quest for truth I remain uncertain. I am worried that the state of I may be a permanent condition.