Upstate

—

by

Why Are You Yelling?
in ,

Upstate is home-town lonely but 
still smells sweetly uncanny. 

3 hours upstate on Amtrak,
head lolling lazy against the frosted window.

Eyes in the reflection
are part of the murky scenery;

green orbs steady on the river. 
Passing through tunnels, they’re all that can be seen.

Step out and search the platform-greeters.
From the trunk to the side seat to our driveway,

all becomes memory-laced.
Even the alterations seem familiar, re-
hearsed.

And I miss it when it’s around;
goodbyeing the arrival of home.