Poem of the Day 11.25.08

winnie

winnie
i wonder if that
is you
that i see
every evening
coming off the 5 train
and heading
into the bowels
of the atlantic avenue
station
with the rest of
us.
you must be twenty-five
by now.

winnie
if it is then
i want to tell you that
you look the same
as you did
at fourteen
in the carnegie library
of pittsburgh
same blonde hair
all over the place
same quick slouched
walk
the same rail thin
frame
and eyes that look
bloodshot
and far gone.

winnie
maybe you don’t
want to hear that
at this point
in your life.

but winnie
remember when
you couldn’t articulate
a thing
could never speak
when you just ran around
the humanities department
carrying an armload
of teen drama books
and shaking
your body to the soul?
we all wondered what
was wrong with you
back then
a bad home?
the outcast at school?

winne
you were always
haunting
a lot of people’s minds
taking up
their talk.

and winnie
i hope it is you
moving around the bowels
of this station
mixing sweat and misery
with the other millions.
i don’t know
i guess it would mean to me
that you somehow got out
of pittsburgh
out of malaise of birth into death
and whatever madness
you really had as a child.

winnie
i hope you are
finally free
to smile or cry
or just pass on through.