Kim Janssen Leaving The Cinema
Not so far from where the railroad crosses through the
woods they can hear the trains pass by at night.
And she works all summer in fields nearby walking home
just before it gets dark so she can buy a car.
And drive all night over red leaves past large trees and
then long roads that take her over hills and over
highways with many lanes.
And yellow signs that glow up ahead in the sky that
always changes color.
We all know there's nobody there to pick up the phone and
say we're so glad you're coming home again because the
house burnt down.
Warm tears soak my jacket where her face is, her eyes are
like lines drawn in the sky.
Then white names fill the screen I can see hers too but
not mine and we all leave and feel strange.
