ALL ABOARD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The conductor’s call lingers~ 
the train’s smoke and steam dissolve.
Somewhere, a suitcase clicks shut~  
finality in the sound of leather straps.  

Viewed through smudged glass,
the world blurs into watercolor:  
gas stations with their winged signs,  
a lone boy waving from a bicycle  
that will rust by summer’s end.   

We press our foreheads   
to the glass, watching telephone poles  
stutter past like film reel frames~  
each one a flickering second  
gone before we can name it.  

We pass a field where horses  
stand like forgotten statues.  
Their shadows stretch long  
across the stubble,  
as if trying to catch us.  

Walking towards the dining car
we pass a woman in a pillbox hat~
she folds her gloves into her lap,  
staring at the ghost of her reflection  
as it floats over picked cotton fields.  

We smell burnt toast  
and something sweet~
maybe pie.  

Wearing a rumpled suit, a man  
stirs sugar into his cup,  
counting the spoon’s lazy circles  
like a prayer..  

Dusk arrives. Lamps flicker on,  
casting long shadows  
that stretch across the aisle  
like memories too thin to hold.  

Some rides never end.  
They just grow quieter,  
carriages emptying  
until it’s only you  
and the rhythm of the rails  
counting down the miles, 
remembering…. 

You may read the related memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/all_aboard_13601

12th gradenostalgiarememberfree verse

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