BRICK HOUSE

Here I am, alone in my mind.
Soft sounds of music in my head.
Ear phones plugged in.
The slow drum of the train melts in my mind; I watch little brick houses pass by me like a music video.
So much to think about; so many numbers go through my head.

I continue to watch out the window of the train; an old, rusted water tower passes by me like a forgotten dream.
Small, little, brick neighborhoods shadow the landscape.
These people live a basic and simple life – one I may never know, one that looks very appealing from the outside.
The music dims as it changes to a new song.
A new music video starts in my mind.

Oh yes we are the kids of MTV.
The X generation they call us.

The train stops.
Trenton is the sign of the moment.
A voice comes on, “it’s time to go.”
Many move to the doors but I sit here watching and waiting.

My stop is not here yet.

Like the brick houses that so puzzled and amused me.
My stop will come some day.
Some day I will settle down and maybe even have a small, quaint, brick house of my own.