Silver Streak

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on November 26, 2011 0 Comments

 


Silver Streak


a silver streak

it rumbles in

the diesels hum

the ground shakes

and like Pavlov’s dogs

a flurry of motion

a wave of reaction

to the clanging bell and its cue

the idle passengers-to-be

grab their bags and satchels

purses or briefcases

umbrellas and lunchboxes

an occasional bike or two

and get in line

every day the same

like subjects of a silver God

they wait expectantly

to be translated

to their final destination

the timely board this beast one by one

and then when signaled

by conductors all

the silver streak starts

to creep and move

imperceptibly at first

as if our eyes play tricks

then gaining speed

along its guiding rails

to the hopeful “wait…WAIT”

of the stragglers -

the sleeper’s in

the “can’t find my car keys” ones

and the  cursing

of the hopeless – dejected –

rejected by the conductor man

who smugly stares and shakes his head

should he see in their desperation to be on time

the urge to jump through the now-closing

train car door -

too, too late


This stop just one

of many stations along these rails

stretching behind – ahead

as far as eyes can see

unknown to me where they begin or end

or where their final destination lies

but a sojourn made

sitting side by side

strangers all

but comrades for a time

who converse

and share a laugh

or read – prepare

or catch 40 winks

some sit in silent solitude

staring out the window

at the world whipping by

or in the distance

passing at a gentler pace

thinking – dreaming – dreading -

the tooting at the crossroads

and the rattle of steel on steel

rail and wheel

all sounds of the experience

that lulls that soothes

‘til the silver streak slows and stops

at their destination

where the world awaits

they gather their

bags and satchels,

purses or briefcases

umbrellas – lunchboxes

an occasional bike or two

and get in line

every day the same

like subjects of a silver God

that wait expectantly

to disembark

at heaven or hell

depending on whether they’re ready or not

strangers still

they go their way

to work or school

or just away

and leave the silver streak

faithfully – wistfully –

tethered to its rails


About the Author ()

The easy description is:Six foot four20-21 stone *280 lbs+*Silver blond hairWhite goateebald on top, full on the sidesI’m large... fast on my feetand built like a brick shithousebut, with a heart as soft as warmc

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