You Stood at the Station by John Greiner

I left noon
in wonder,
wanting evenings
in your head,
I ran to you
while you stood
at the station
abandoned.
I knew that you'd
tell me to go away.
I knew that you'd
say that that night,
nights past,
nights to come
had nothing to do
with
what I wanted,
what I needed
to get through
to you.
I fell through
lovers
and mountains
looking
for a morning
running in front
of the sun
trying to beat
its grip
on the sky.
I outpaced
wolves
and pilgrims
who waited
for the blood
of morning
only to return
to your night time
eyes that are stars
that suffocate
the moon
and are always
in my mind.

John Greiner is a Pushcart Prize nominated writer living in Queens, NY. He was educated at the New School for Social Research.  Greiner's work has appeared in Sand, Empty Mirror, Sensitive Skin, Unarmed, Street Valueand numerous other magazines. His chapbooks, broadsides and collections of poetry and short stories includeTurnstile Burlesque (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2017), The Laundrymen(Wandering Head Press, 2016), Bodega Roses (Good Cop/Bad Cop Press, 2014),Modulation Age (Wandering Head Press, 2012), Shooting Side Glances(ISMs Press, 2011) and Relics From a Hell’s Kitchen Pawn Shop (Ronin Press, 2010).