Station to Station

The train pulls in
with no one there
            to greet you

they’ve all gone
the one with white hair

the blue-eyed girlfriend

with plausible hands
             delicate as leaves

This is your depot
your stop

you recognize the faceless
windows     the broken clock

the shrill wind whistling
through the banging screen

Somehow it all falls short
of how you pictured it

the bar-keep     stationmaster
blacksmith       priest

Gone      all gone
to another town       another

station       the watchman’s dog
the butcher’s cat       both packed

away      As darkness overrides

the day you slowly walk
the town and wander

in among forgotten alleys black
with soot          with cartons stacked

like leaning townsfolk
thin and gray          Tomorrow

you will jump the tracks and catch
the morning milk train back

to back with city workers     fancied
for your breakfast chatter        famous

for your family news