A Boxcar Named Desire
No, we weren't a couple one expected.
"What could she be thinking", one reflected.
Yet we held an undefined attraction;
Some subconscious neuron interaction.
After weeks we gathered our composure
Time to face my parents' first exposure.
True, your looks were just a bit off kelter(sic).
Poets often live at homeless shelters.
Mother stiffened, held her throat, and gasped.
Father never moved, in shock perhaps.
Then we vowed to do what we must do.
Freight trains leave at seven, ten and two.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014