Waiting At A Crossing

Today I had to wait for a train of 55

or so oil cars while picking up the girls

at school.  I waited on my scooter

at the side of the road in the shade.

There’s one track here in Chong Khae

and the oil train has to be shunted

off on a siding while waiting for another

train to pass through.  It seemed

a laborious process today and I began

thinking quite naturally about poetry.

Sometimes I think poetry is the true

engine pulling our consciousness through

the wild night sky.  But as the minutes

ran on – sometimes the train is too

long for the siding and the train has to

edge forward one car at a time to clear

the crossing – I began to think poetry

as a slack employee, probably half buzzed

on Thai whiskey slobbering in the caboose

and dreaming of God knows what,

– maybe home.

FG           11/4/2015