Getting Off - Trains
The steam on the windows is gone,
Replaced by frosty thoughts
I'm up from my seat,
I see nothing but empty aisles
Rows and rows of plastic
And red velvet,
The cupids on the carpet
Follow me with arrows
And the whistle on your engine
Clawing, pounding, shrieking
At my ears and
At my memories
Of when it sang
I grasp the brass and turn it
One final time
Without a backwards glance
I'm over the railing,
Into the grass and the flowers
But I am not free
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