Coming Home on a Train

(June 29th 2009)

The mountains go by-
and farms and carcasses of cattle,
haystacks and forests-
all disappear behind starched
cotton curtains in a flash of light.
I’m aching from travel
and hurting worse knowing
that so many hours still
separate me from home-
from being clean, from real
sleep, ripe with dreams-
from gentle kisses on the scalp.
I haven’t been homesick
since I was seven. And
since I was nine I’ve been
adventure sick – itching to be
a Runaway baby – Queen of the stowaways.
I imagine myself now-
these strangers make good company
and dripping harvest for hungry pick-pockets.
Jeweled fists clasped around
the necks of cheap expensive wine-
easy targets for an innocent beggar-
but no. I am not a theif today-
I am a patron of the Burlington Northern
Santa Fe Railroad.
I am a passenger – a “valued customer”.
I am no runaway baby,
because it isn’t so bad
to have a home to ride home to.
And Mommy will be waiting with
kisses and new games.
And you will be waiting
with questions and arms-
and all the things I’ve been missing.
The mountains disappear and
the “Empire Builder” rocks me to sleep-
or what you call it when
your exhausted eyes slam shut
from 10 hours too many
on the railroad.