Cattails, Part 2
Dark December evenings,
Sitting on a train passing over the Passaic river,
Watching the lights slide and wondering if I’ll ever be better than I am.
I miss the sun in my hair and the wind off the water,
The faint saltwater on my skin.
The best thing and the only thing I know.
I can watch the phragmites dance along the tracks,
And in winter rain, they can almost be cattails.
If I look hard enough, I sometimes can’t see the difference.