018. Yellow Line

by John Herzog

how do I understand
the use of you

of idle platforms
full of phantoms
without fare for the fairway

of itinerant streetcars
spinning between specters
spectating vacancy

what is the use
of this place
that is my place

trace my palm
with your fingers
find lines with no function

trace my body
on the sidewalk
see shadow with no direction

trace my heart
with your ear
hear rhythm with no conviction

but it beats in time
for all the time that I have
and that is enough
for me to stay moving

enough for me to know
I am not obsolete


Author's Note: CTA Yellow Line.

Posted on 05/11/2018
Copyright © 2021 John Herzog

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Brian Francis on 05/15/18 at 04:20 PM

Obsolescence creeps upon us and so often lost are the suburban transportation services. I hear the rhythm of the tracks in your nicely written poem --bf

Posted by Rob Littler on 05/19/18 at 01:01 AM

Oh but the fruits of being here (and there) is being, and the use of the language makes it SO SO worth it, my friend. I never rode the Skokie Swift, but the vastness that was once so favorable, so "pastoral" and preferred, is now part of the cloud of unknowing.

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