
Laura Tuthall
Tolstoy Train (June 4th, 2013)
I take the train in June
across from Mr. Suit
he’s reading War and Peace
and I am screeching with the wheels
some girl says:
“on to the next one
I’ll get over him with ramen soup
and filling up the parking lot with tears”
I am a thinker
not a breather
I spend my hours
recycling one word
there’s no survival kit yet
but don’t you fret
I’ll be getting over myself
someday soon
I take the train to try
to breathe and dream and fly
but he’s still reading War and Peace
and I’m still screeching with the wheels
some boy says
“what’s that you’re writing there”
I stare and glare
I’m statuesque
until his stop
I am a thinker
not a breather
I spend my hours
recycling one word
there’s no survival kit yet
but don’t you fret
I’ll be getting over myself
someday soon…
I take the bus instead
to try and clear my head
but now the Suit’s on to Anna Karenina
and I am mute
one soul's as ghostly as the next one
just as interchangeable
as shiny meter change
I am a thinker
not a breather
I spend my hours
recycling one word
there’s no survival kit
no getting over it
and Ramen Girl’s noodles
are cold in the microwave