TrainWrite

Jailbait at the Train Stop

by Zach Fishel

Conductor’s Note: The following is the third in a series of three poems from the same trip, at the same station, in different parts. Return to Monday’s issue to start from the beginning.

She is tiny, with legs stiff as

rain gutters,

holding everything in despite the downpour.

Heather grey tights

and a mini-skirt.

Her hair is bleached light and

glasses dark around

green eyes.

A botanist,

working out of the city to get a degree

that pays more than

I will ever make.

I talk about knowing her in the café car of the train,

when she tells me her age.

I walk to the back of the

platform,

thankful enough to have asked,

because her lips were

telling me anything but the truth.

Zach Fishel is a recent Pushcart Prize nominee and a graduate student at the University of Toledo, where he is working toward an M.A. in Literature. His work has appeared most recently, or is forthcoming, in Amphibi, Yes, Poetry, Gloomcupboard, and others. He thinks that sometimes boredom is a poison, and his only speed is go.

Notes

  1. omfunonpunc reblogged this from trainwrite
  2. This was featured in #Poetry
  3. trainwrite posted this
Top