Night Train

I know it knows where it's going but the pace of the train is a search. It tosses and turns all night like it's dreaming about a work of art it hopes to make in the near future.

The near future turns out to be the next life where the world belongs to the young and the dead make all the rules.

Everything that's wrong with me climbs to the top of Mt.Shasta at dawn, only to disappear in a white cloud.

Now that I know I'll never see myself again, I sit back, relax, read the morning paper, drink a cup of coffee. By mid-morning some of my fellow passengers disembark at the station in Klamath Falls and smoke cigarettes they drop onto the tracks, waiting for the train whistle and the conductor to yell, "all aboard." Some of them even manage to look like human beings.

***Special note: I've asked Thomas Fuller, author of "Monsieur Ambivalence" and the upcoming, "Mare Island: A meta history", to serve as guest blogger, if and when he feels like it, for the next few days. I'll return to this space Thursday, April 10.