fallen verses

Outside my bedroom window
train tracks run along the river

Mornings are the time of the
slow freight-hauling trains
So that each day
in addition to an obnoxious series of
mehp mehp mehp
I hear a simultaneous
dada dada dada
as joints in the rail line flex

Like two old members of the resistance
(”Viva la afternoon!”)
long since retired and sold-out
The train and I begin our day
with a most typical of conversations
“Morning.” kachung
“Damn. It’s early.” kachung
“If I’d hit the snooze button one more time…” kachung
(Angrily, though, and I remember its day had already begun)

I don’t know the afternoon trains.
Like hotel maids they only show up
when I’m gone.

And there are no evening trains.
My evening conversations used to be held with you.
Now, I go to bed early
just to get to the morning’s convo sooner.
(kachung)