green skirt

a girl in a green skirt sits next to me on the train in Union Station.
I'm on the passenger seat next to the window,
I see the reflection of her legs and suddenly want
to pull her towards me for a hot kiss.
she is reading a book about ghandi.

I'm reading nothing,
I write my own stories.
she has short black hair like uma thurman and
I think of saying hello, but instead look out the window.

I see graffiti on the walls of apartment buildings.
there is a bible verse on a wall and a
brown christmas tree sitting quietly
nearby in the month of June.

in van nuys we pass a hobo camp,
wooden sticks and makeshift tents for shelter.
a ladder holds up one of the tents,
some rusted metal bars, aluminum everywhere.

the conductor says there will be a baggage check by
homeland security, but the baggage check never comes.
the hippie girls then flips the page in the ghandi book, closes it
and brings out her ipod.

she is listening to Joy Division now,
I can hear "love will tear us apart"
from her headphones.

I close my eyes and see white firemen and the city of angels on fire.
a thousand police officers are being shot at by the blacks,
no officer survives. police cars explode, there are sirens but no ambulances anywhere.

I see the hippie girl smiling at me,
lets dance on the streets she says,
and lets burn this whole city down so we can all live like the hobos.

I open my eyes,
but when the song ends there is nothing else playing.
she opens her book again,
I continue to look out the window.

she never looked at me once,
and I never looked at her again until she stood up,
grabbed her bags and disappeared forever.