The low rumble of approaching trains
Silences the clashing of lumbering machinery.
Crickets chirping are soon obscured by the serpentine boxcars.
All of this noise makes what only I hear a lot less dissonant.
I think of you, you, and you.
My priorities are sorted out by the pensiveness evoked by this place.
From love I still find frustration and anger.
A fire still burns, engulfing everything furiously.
The condensation complimentary to this dense humidity, does little to help.
Location is everything.
At this spot, seclusion calls for romance,
But I find it best left untarnished;
There is no need to spoil my Bodhi tree with company.