Day Dreamers

Ideas bounce around,
Faster than kangaroos on pogo sticks.
My mind is a jumble of ideas, thought, and "what if's."
"What if I...what if he...what if they...what if..."
 
I can almost never finish a thought
Because the train is moving too fast.
Trains are how people think of thought lines.
Yet I cannot catch mine.
 
I see where it comes from,
And I see where it ends,
But never how.
 
Ideas are like faces in a window.
Each can tell a story of how
And why they are there,
And be of great importance in the world they live,
But blurs as the train flashes by to its destination.
 
What could be on this train that I’ve never seen before?
Or that is so important it must arrive so fast?
What new thoughts could it yield,
If slowed to a visible speed?
Could slowing it save lives?
Could it reveal the future?
Or can it just mean more thinking?
 
Bullet trains in the real world might be good,
But bullet trains in my head are a curse,
And a privilege.