SIDE TRACKS

 Waiting there at the stop
 I knew I had some time; there were many cars
 The train was very slow in moving
 It looked like it was very long
 I wasn’t in a hurry
 That would do no good

 Oh, we’re sorry mister
 We’ll just skip along here quickly
 We’re sorry
 We didn’t see you
 No problem I said back to my imagination
 I’ll just look at the art

 There is a lot of it to see on these boxcars and tankers
 I wonder who those artists are
 I know they didn’t dip their brushes into their soul
 Oh, they have souls
 They don’t have brushes
 They have cans

 Cans of spray paint
 Fumes will be inhaled
 Then their psychedelic minds take over
 They spray their soul
 They spray their hopes
 They spray their nature

 Oh, you lovely cars, you can’t contain your beauty
 You may be empty on the inside
 You may be filled
 On the outside, your pictures 
 Can make the lovely willow weep
 You make me weep
  
 Stanski
 December 6, 2019 ^
  
 With a tip of the hat to Henry Ward Beecher, who wrote
 “Every artist dips his brush in his own soul,
 And paints his own nature into his pictures.”