Station to Station

The train pulls in
with no one there
to greet you

they’ve all gone
the one with white hair

the blue-eyed girlfriend

with plausible hands
delicate as leaves

This is your depot
your stop

you recognize the faceless
windows the broken clock

the shrill wind whistling
through the banging screen

Somehow it all falls short
of how you pictured it

the bar-keep stationmaster
blacksmith priest

Gone all gone
to another town another

station the watchman’s dog
the butcher’s cat both packed

away As darkness overrides

the day you slowly walk
the town and wander

in among forgotten alleys black
with soot with cartons stacked

like leaning townsfolk
thin and gray Tomorrow

you will jump the tracks and catch
the morning milk train back

to back with city workers fancied
for your breakfast chatter famous

for your family news