Wednesday, November 27, 2013

POEM - West Coast Train

We left Oregon by train
My mom and my sister and I
But I was so young
I don’t remember the station
Or getting on the train

My memory starts
At seeing the ocean
As the morning grew
We sat and watched
In the dining car
I looked out the window
Fascinated by endless water
Filing in a dark blue line
Just above the blurring landscape
Close at hand
Just below
An endless light blue sky
Filling in the top half of the window

Then there was the stop
At a desert station
That looked like a movie set version of itself
I wondered why people would get off there
And where would anyone live
In a dusty, flat deserted wasteland
With nothing but this station in sight

We finally made Los Angeles
A country unto itself
Walked out
Through Union Station
To meet Grandpa and Grandma
The wonderful world of Olvera Street
A colorful gateway to the busy city

Later my father would join us
He had grown a beard
I barely recognized him
It put the idea
Somewhere in my head
That when dads are alone
Their beards grow faster
And when trains take you away
People change





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