Notes from the field (8)- Travel at night

When I was young, sometimes

we rode the trains overnight

to new houses,

loud dreams

riding a rough disjointed shaft,

rumbling deep into the night.

 

And in the spaces:

towns lit

like strange vessels seen from a distance

sailing some dark and blackened ocean.

 

Dirty yellow stations,

words behind the shuttered windows

and I

asleep in rough blankets

am carried across the shores of memory

toward the vast and orange expanse

of dawn.

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