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.

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