Catching The Train Home

Published in Talking River (Summer 2012)
 

The metal railing hums
as hand after hand after hand
grabs on
and
slides down,
leaving behind grease and skin and
memories.

Lust, fungus, sweat
sticky dreams
tumble down
below the surface
on running feet.

Down
into the earth,
where blind worms
do their job
eating dirt,
boring hole after hole.

And water snakes down from the surface,
its coded message echoing
against rust-stained walls—
Drip, drip.
Drip.

Glowing windows click by,
a ribbon of film
framing backlit faces
that stare out into the dark.

She picks a car that is full
presses in,
holds on
to nothing.

They do not look at each other,
yet stand close as lovers,
breathe in each other’s exhaled breath
smell each other’s sweat
hear each other’s music
rock and sway

and just for a moment
she thinks, maybe,
the thumping of the train on the rails
is their hearts.