Nothing ever happens on the southbound train
In a way, it is the people's stomping feet
That signals any motion.
Nothing every happens on the train
except a man in dark glasses
not noticing the way a Carlsbad gull
dives into the lagoon, rising in the surface of a wave
looking across the ocean, nothing is happening
the Pacific is still salty and blue
On the train, nothing is happening
As the announcer declares, through crusty static,
The stops for Encinitas, for Solana Beach, for Old Town
Where you can take a bus, a trolley, or a cab to somewhere else
Where, likely, nothing happens
Nothing is happening
So the poet in yellow is distressed, she clutches her neon pink
Composition book
And watches the new arrivals clomp to their seats
The train climbs passed Torrey pines, then eucalyptus
Parallel to Highway 101,
See The Bar Leucadian, the Just Peachy Fresh Fruit stand,
Then a bump, the lost rhythm of train tracks at Lou’s Records 
There is nothing to see on the southbound train
Girls in blue dresses, their boyfriends in baseball caps
Tourists pull a sandwich from their packs, then a sweater
To ward against the impossible cool of the indoor air
Just another day, without anything to see
A man in the corner lays his head down on the small center table
Sleeps
The middle-aged couple, in matching khaki shorts 
Move toward a seat across from the poet,
A smile offered as a way to simply ask
That her feet be removed from the seat the woman wants 
All the people on the train
Look out the window, toward the fairground
Something is probably happening there
Ferris rides, deep fried turkey legs
But the train rushes by too fast to know for sure
The passengers with window seats move their
Eyes
Above them a fighter jet wings towards Miramar
Then, nature gets 
the last say
a hawk echoes the flight of the jet
Inside the train, its clear little happens
Four people are chewing gum
One a texter
One talking on a cell phone
The man who has awakened from his nap
And the poet
Who, though she is almost 35 years old,
feels young again.
She resolves to enjoy the nothingness on the train
The lack of drama and
Puts away her notebook.
Nothing needs to happen on the southbound train.
San Diego's Sante Fe Station
No comments:
Post a Comment