Sonnet 64: The Subway Train

By Matthew Paul-Olmos

The subway trains can be such the painful ride
These people with love in their hearts
Their eyes on each other, just so close inside
And the way they kiss goodbye, their travels never apart.

The streets of the city can just break your day
These girls with their hair and faces an smile
Looking at you as though you had a way
To break through the crowd, thick with denial.

But you continue on, through your everyday
Wondering which one will be next in line
She'll come unexpectedly from some random way
And youll know her when you see her like some bullshit astrological sign

And maybe youll write junior high style prose just like this,
But who really cares, the time will come again to hit and, or miss.

Sonnet 63: Her Eyes are Vacant

By Matthew Paul-Olmos

Her eyes are vacant as some shit’on parking lot
And yes, I know at some intersection I found them draw’ing
But that was then and now its not
Now they are empty an on the floor crawling.

Her silences makes me sick to the sound
And its true, I once mistook her song for beauty
But no, now I know it is more like children drowning
Sinking deeper down and along into stupidity.

But nothing is worse than hearing her talk
Sentenced thoughts like a car wreck
And rather than listen, you’d rather be on the asphalt outlined in chalk
Pretending to sleep and hoping she’d slip on the glass and cut through her neck.

But there is one feature which I now do truly adore,
It is her absence and the ocean between us which no cars can go.