The paint on the cars in the Princeton Junction train parking lot
Sparkles in the August sun,
Like the lacquer on the nails of Jersey girls.
Row upon row, the cars bake in the heat
and wait like patient dogs for their owners.
Where are they all going? my daughter asks
She is thinking of the people on the platform
Traveling to New York or Philly
Or even Union Station
Where they will change trains
For Richmond or Chicago.
Destination is relative, I say
The cars have arrived.
Michelle Bouchard has three children and two cats. She is a member of the West Windsor Senior Center writing group and has been a member of Delaware Valley Poets and Poets House poetry workshops.
