The train was late –
so late it seemed
there might be no more trains
It caught me unawares…
I was lying down: soon
it did not move –
I did not move
Dirt from the rails
clogged up my head, filled
all those joyous spaces
where I danced
I crouched by the door
but it did not open:
young girls in bright canoes rushed past
just out of reach,
the water boiling
The sleeper shadows lengthened:
the train, not moving, seemed to slow:
rails hummed and screeched
a crack worked its way
down the wall
There was light outside
I could not reach it yet:
there was a pain growing stronger
in my back
and I felt
strangely tired