Trying To Get To There Poem by Reshma Ramesh

With a cent in my pocket and a hole in the other
i am walking along the dusty road
where the cat has stretched and yawned
painted beauties cried at dawn
i am trying to get somewhere
somewhere, where there is no morn
maybe i am trying too hard,
trying too hard to get to there

with a broken oar and a bruised palm
i am going down the river on its
most traveled path, where pretty
Joanne washed her hair, i am trying
to get somewhere where there is
no warning, at the lull of the day begins
another night, maybe i am trying too hard
trying too hard to get there

with a book of dreams in my hand and
a broken heart in another
i am riding with the whistles of the train
where the shunt is rusted and the tracks
are worn, where sometimes i slept alone,
i am trying to get somewhere, where there
is no station or porters, maybe i am trying
too hard, trying to get there