by Lawrence J. J. Leonard
The whirl of the cool wind seeping into the car
becomes a droning undertone for the clamor
that is the steady striding wheels on the tracks.
The louder the struggle that pulls the weight
the deeper my longing to become anew
and dream that I am not on a midnight train.
Yes, I enjoy the solitude
No, I detest the loneliness
Yes, I am going home
No, it’s personal business.
Club car is for drinks
Dining car is for meeting new people
Sleeping car is warmth for the weary
I seemed to have forgotten myself.
I said, it appears that
I have forgotten myself!
In my rush to spin the cocoon –
all powers of foraging gone –
the only thing that matters is emergence.
I hear someone has noticed me way up here.
My frosted covering has repulsed some casual onlookers.
Only temporary, I wager, that reaction.
Soon to emerge from my cocoon car
as the envy of many gardens,
flittering from buds to blossoms.
Wait! Is this train heading north?
Copyright © 1960-2015 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved.