He liked the first 15 seconds of the song;
to some that was annoying
but to him it was soothing
and good exercise to reach over so often and press rewind.
His life was a boxcar, a dream
capitulated to the infinity
and they mistook his focus for seriousness
not understanding that he was engaged in
a play date with his soul
that was anything but solemn.
He was his own marksman.
In a jean jacket and frizzy hair
blue backpack in his lap
he swayed softly to the beat of his song
(so soft it looked like breathing)
and that 15 seconds was like fresh air to him.
His boxcar didn’t have retractible windows
so this was important, see.

He knew what was important.

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience.

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