Present into future: bold, bathed, new,
also familiar, a déjà vu.
Wait. Something I had never thought to see
again clanks forward from obscurity—
that creaky train I’d once been riding on,
a journey slow and grim.
Hasn’t that train left the station?
In what dim railyard has it been hidden, waiting?
And do I have to climb back on again?
The train rolls past. Spring sun
touches the sealed windows caked with grime.
And though I am a passenger in time
I watch it passing and do not get on.