A century ago, (it seems),

coming North on AM TRACK

from Union Station, DC,

to Penn Station, NYC,

(a part of my journey to see –

someone-

in the Mid Hudson Valley)

I’d walk cross town to Grand Central

to catch the Metro-North to Poughkeepsie.

Like clock-work, I’d need to “rest”

in Grand Centrals restrooms

before boarding the 7PM north bound train.

So, I’d use the crowded facility

with its wet sinks and low hung toilets.

And before I sat,

I hoped for a cold seat,

unwilling to share such a personal moment

with some –

who knows?-

unhygenetic traveller

in a rush to catch his train

to Hartford or Albany.

In this hub of activities for strangers,

a cold seat would, strangely, relieve me.

A warm one?

Well…

Who knows?

But now,

older and much less the vagabond,

I share our on-suite

with my sweet wife.

And coming in to sit for a moment of,

respite,

in the daily, normal functions of life,

I hope for a warm seat

to lessen the shock

of a midnights squat

in this warm, private life

with my wife….

And that,

you gutsy powerhouse of life lessons

Is

what love’s got to do

with it!