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the train had
slowed to a crawl, a
slither, a
slink, and it was
lilting
tilting
swaying on the tracks like a
ship on some easy wave, or a
sidewinder on some
sweet hot rock, rocking
rocking, and
Luiz Henrique was
shk-shk-shk-ing
shk-ee-tin-tinging, and the
Bossa Nova rolled, was
rolling over its rhythms, like the
train over its
sidewinding tracks and I was
swaying in my seat,
in and out of time, in the
gravitational pull of
two
rolling, rocking beats and their
rock-n-roll gravity (the
physics were astounding) and my
hips swung and swayed, so I
thought of you. . .
my
hips swayed and swung, to the
rhythms of you and the
rhythms of we two, and
two
rock-n-roll gravities
twisting to find the
downbeat between it all, the
downbeat
between the shk-shk-shks, and the
rails, and our
crashing collisions, our
shoreline dynamics
I was
dancing to us, thrusting my
ebb and flow to the upholstery while
Luiz moved the Earth, but
you moved the skies, and
pulled the tides on the
rocking, rolling oceans, and I
thought of you. . .
Full title:
"A Letter to my Lover, while waiting for a Northbound to pass"

And it was just that. I was Southbound away from my lover, on the train, and we kept slowing to stop for passing freights, on bends, while I listened to "Mas Que Nada" on loop and longed. I sent it to its destination shortly after I reached mine. Written 27 July 2004.
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July 28, 2004
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