|
Handing the motorman my transfer,
I descend the steps to the suburban platform And
walk beside the train toward the street. With
a husky whisper, the rear of the train speeds toward me; I
turn as it passes And watch the marker lights
fade and disappear around a curve. In
the shadows, I stare down the track, Remembering the interurban
I was born too late to know Receding into the
rural night. |
