Lines and Stanzas

“Daddy, what’s wrong with the train?”

We’re stopped again

And so remain

Between stations.


“I’m going to be late.”

“You already are.”

The big silver car


In the black tunnel

Like a decrepit dragon.


“It’s bullshit.”

We have places to be

And the dragon staggers,

Its fire within mere gasps.

So we wait and we go and we wait and we go.


“Good morning,” sings the bum,

His cup at the ready

Where steps meet sidewalk.

“Oh shut up,” I mutter and hike.

Nothing wrong with my feet.

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