Intervals

This lazy Wednesday train ride the trees
and buildings are just silhouettes on the horizon,
fuzzy under a thick gray layer of fog,

The old couple next to us
sucking the lips off each other,
Whispering Deutsch love words,
Giggling fourteen year olds,

Ah but the world is a white rose
in a golden cornfield with love in your eyes,

And the subtle caress of the hair,
and the winds subtle caress of the grass,
and the subtle caress of my ego pretending it's content,

This giant worm crawling out of a mountain,
out of the alps, inching toward the Siberian cold
with a warm belly,

(These intervals between stations between sleep between food,
these intervals between kissing between the touch of another
this silence and space. These intervals between trees
between musical notes between birthdays between tragedies
between speaking and writing. These intervals between houses
between paychecks between laughing and climbing.
These intervals between play between friends between phones.
These intervals between haircuts between movies
between exercise. These intervals between flying between taxis
and shit. These intervals between letters between emails and words
between pages. These intervals between questions between answers
between yeses and nos these intervals and in between),

This friend in Vienna and her boyfriend and their lives there
between tall, tall buildings made long ago,

Now the lone house sits on the horizon slanted
red shingled roof and white clay walls, a kiln
in the winter time baking a family from birth to death.