September 13, 2019 · Issue 01: In Transit

Two Movements

I From the terrace before six I see a train crossing, Three cars longā —“That’s it?” Passing in no time at all. I linger for the evening commuter; longer, heavier, humid stream of mysterious machine crashing through my gaze in waves of Here; The window in my parents’ bedroom on an afternoon when they still meant to love each other, keeping the quiet; A promise that The guilt may lift The fear evaporate I won’t be held still by the terrace railing. Nauseous cars persist downline, I see them every night; my trunk locked—hanging on the tremor of the tracks.

II Kurtis is driving I’m hanging out the car window off Joy Division until the commuter begins to cross us but Kurtis pulls an illegal U-turn we keep driving along the wind. Around the corner it catches us again! Neon men in floating yellow caps line the tracks and wave goodbye like little lanterns. GO train! We’re pulling another u-ey. He drives down the beat of Ian Curtis, baritone on the gas pedal gentle man. We stop for every red light. We keep driving. She’s lost control, he’s singing. She’s lost control! He’s right—and I can’t stop laughing.