How lucky can a poet be heading north on a Surfliner as the drab of LA flows past
Grafitti walls, junk yard auto malls how much longer before the surf will this last?
Four people avoiding the drive in a train in which the internet does not work
Without a personal hot spot we would all be beserk
Shades of Niki Haley across the aisle is a writer from India a total beauty with a great smile
Whatever script she will be writing is where I would want to turn my TV changer dial
Life on Amtrak even without the internet is a tranquil way to travel the Camino Real road
No stress, no strain, no worries, clearly a great trip to forebode
If my TV script writer would ever from canned laughter and prose depart
Would iambic be a place she would start?
If so where could she look to find a rhythmic heart?
To applaud her work as she entered the poetry mart
Or would poetry be a house of empathy and emotion she would rather enter not
Heading instead to the novel or biography or nonfiction where fortunes are more easily sought
© May 19, 2017 Michael P. Ridley the Alaskanpoet