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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1990500
Rated: E · Poetry · Community · #1990500
I used to commute by train to work and back, every day; no more.
Train Dream

I hear that lonesome whistle
from my sooty seat inside
I see the back yards flitting by
despondent and dirty.
Do people live there?
What a mess.
I try to sleep,
Clackety clack, clackerty clack
Clackerty clack.

I daydream
in air conditioned comfort
green forests flash by
snow covered mountains
peek through clearings
the stewardess
brings another scotch on the rocks

That yard is a disgrace
so close to a station.
Surely someone will come
and remove the junk.
Even the washing on the line
is dirty.

The snow covered mountains
deign to show their splendour,
how beautifull,
how utterly beautiful,
how cold.
I take another sip of scotch.

The carriage door opens
they tromp in
oblivious of me
hordes of the great unwashed have arrived
battered luggage, squealing kids
gravel voiced mothers.
The train shudders into motion
Clackety clack, clackerty clack.

I wonder what sort of trees they are,
those in the forest.
The stewardess returns with a message
“Would Sir be dining in the Club Car?”

Those kids are eating like pigs
sandwiches from a squashed bag,
meat pies. And some other stuff I can’t identify.
the floor like a back yard

the Club Car

damn it, they are fighting now,
I see my stop coming up,

I have to Dream on Trains.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1990500