Holden

he’s got a soul like wayward traintracks
ticking along at the speed of light —
I know where he’s going
but he doesn’t

he doesn’t care
he’s out of the gate again
sneakers pounding on dirt
cement grass rubber
heels slopping in his shoes
(he always goes
a size too big

thinks it makes him
look older
than he feels)
carries around a baseball glove
he can just slip his fingers into
says it’s for
old times’ sake
but I know he just means
sentimentality

he’s got eyes like hazel clouds
always raining when you least expect it
so much that you learn to assume
he’ll start sobbing
if he even just misses his train

it makes him remember
the first time anyone asked him
for his company
& really meant it

he just couldn’t find the words
anywhere in the records of his
nonstop personal television track mind
to really thank them

for a
goddamn
cup
of tea

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