Came across an old man that I’ve met before,
at the station.
Blocked off, filled up,
we spoke about dreams, looney bins,
my old sins, and then I went on my way.

He said boy, ‘you’re creative’s peaking.’
He doesn’t know what I got in the tank.
I thanked him, I think.

Asking for change in exchange for
washing windows.
I said no. Wasn’t broke,
I just wanted to roll.

Thought about a woman that I’ve missed before,
at the station.
Blocked off, filled up.
We’d speak about dreams, looney bins,
all our sins. We’d see those again someday.

Hey lady, is your soul singing?
Only you know what fills up your tank.
She thanks me, I think.

Beg me for change, rearrange all
this slow motion.
She said wait. It’s all fate,
you can’t ever be late.

Some thoughts sometimes stay.

My number hit,
old lever flicked,
two shoes clicked and I was on my way,
beginning my today.

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