At a crossing first thing to do.
Count the boxcars.
And when tiring of that
wonder what’s inside
and where they came from.
Now the sound. Clickety clack.
Where are they going?
From names to places
Can’t tell.
And my age?
A blur.
A hobo?
Tweedle Dumb Tweedle Dee.
Rapped knuckles at a wake.
Mum mum mummy
In a Rosary!
Hang on to mettle outside
Streetcar window.
Free ride for a nobody kid.
Sister inside scared and ashamed.
Second boy hitches on.
Falls off and slips under the wheels.
At that wake start to laugh
at that boy staring with a mangled face.
Wasn’t me but could have been.
More boxcars pass. When will they stop?
Train stops. Cows mooing between slats.
Big eyes. Move!
On and on will they never pass?
My young friend to the last.
Give up meat for my mother and brother
who never was. And still my sister won’t speak.
All passes. Crossing the tracks.
Cows in the meadow. Crickety-crack.
I’m with the damndest acts.
Praised be heaven and earth!