rrodriguez

Alone in the express train

Alone in the express train,

I would sometimes stand & look down

to the level where the train tracks were

 

to watch the gliding locomotive

screech around a tight curve

then speed straight past empty local stations.

 

What was in those fleeting moments

fascinating me as stations disappear fast,

flickering by before my eyes?

 

I remember how high I was

rocking side to side as the train sped,

I remember not caring much.

 

The stations came fast, flashing by,

the lights, the graffiti, the peeling ads,

the people zooming by,

 

the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels

The whistling wind, the dangling cables like

electrical spiderwebs.

 

All I wanted was to get home

over and over the train swayed and shook

as the train stuck fast to its steel tracks.

 

Or better still, to survive the night,

to stay alive on the lonely dirty train

as it tunneled through the eerie gap

 

devouring the darkness engulfing me,

and then there would be light

the day welcome me, I’m alive

 

but the long trek through the dark –

through the night, my teenage years,

faded, now I look back & wonder how I survived.