Trains

The train: now I understand the buckling, the swaying beast of it; the whole train judders as the uncertain serpent. My legs are ocean forests beneath me, roiling at the whim of the railway waves. My hands, free, free though some force propels this dumb inertia through the forests whose hands are raised in praise, the eggheads, the fox-face pines staring up at the sky enduringly.

And now the pines whisper their slow, long goodbyes, a farewell a hundred miles wide, as green shifts into grey.

Not yet; I must not yet.

stolen, I know not when

jailbroken, as it were, from behind

bleached bars torn apart

though what they found, I know

I dream it even now, haunting;

a wooden circuit board, sundered

from its circuitry and liquid wiring

chisel and knife, carving into me

such beautiful things, whittling down

a face in ecstasy,

a bramble crown

the whole of sea echoing.

but enough is not found

they sandblast the image down

until nothing remains but memory

and less of me, a sawdust trail

remembering

The silhouettes of mountains approach as sleeping giants. Are we the snake beneath their heels? I cannot ignore their gravity. Hoodwinked, the tunnel, the wool drawn over my eyes and I am blind for moments before the curtain draws back and soaring over everything – nothing exists but – the snowcapped peak.

I’ve swallowed the heart of darkness, walked in the valley of shadows, and I’m through – a crooked path though the shepherd’s staff crooked my neck into greener pastures. I scarcely imagined such still waters.

Train trip to San Francisco was a success. There is a peace aboard trains, and a community that isn’t present in aircraft trips. People walked to other tables to participate in games with strangers, and as we played bananagrams, our neighbors leaned over and offered helpful definitions of words we didn’t know (had made up, Matthew), or asked us about the game.

Now, I’m sunburned (I’m actually rather shocked I got sunburned. I almost never get sunburned), exhausted, and pleased. Mostly, I think I’m a bit resurrected and ready for everything. Life’s a train, and at every stop, things are exchanged – but not everything. And the views are magnificent if you are willing to look out and see.