That Ship has Sailed

On the fourth floor of
my new apartment building, lives an
old woman and her daughter.

Sometimes, when I am awake late 
at night , I hear them talk, or rather yell-
domestic disturbances- the easy choice,
the hard choice.

People fight, and people still live- with
one another, because the way out is often
way too lonely, but when we are young

there are always ships that sail away and
we are surrounded by beautiful people,
who interest our brains; as much as our bodies,

and when we are out in another place, far from
the ones we left we feel a tinge of sadness,
sometimes, just sometimes --

Sometimes we leave, and sometimes we don't,
but as far as metaphors go,
the story of life is somewhere richocheting
between the arrivals and the departures.

She once told me that transit lounges
were infact one of the Trinity of her favorite
"saddest places" and I never asked the other two,

and now, I can never know.

She is gone, "that ship
has sailed."