TrainWrite

Red Line

by Adam Sax

God was on that train, outbound
In the evening rush, February 16th
Watching me, watching us
In step with me at Park St.
From lonely cold pavements
To the congestion of the car
He had on his navy-blue cap
And greatcoat, a few toggles missing
About the middle where it bulged
He was a sea captain lost in the throng
Of the evening bullet train. And I
Would have missed him
Missed seeing God. And for what?
A few moments on the platform
With you? I remember. My
Phone had no service. I remember
I wanted to send you a picture
Of Him: I knew you wouldn’t
Believe me. But there He was!
And I’ll tell you why, and I’m sure
It was Him. His eyes! Those azure eyes
(No other word for them) tucked
Up and away, behind a white cloud
Of beard. I remember. Reticent eyes
Taking in the whole scene
They knew who I was, knew the fat
Man behind me with the pungent
Chili breath, knew who served him
Knew who grew the beans, knew who
Slaughtered the cow. And He loved them
I wish I could love, a really open love
Like that. But I’m not God, and you’re
Not my angel; life is too short for that
And even God’s big blue eyes
Get lost in there, in the speed of the train
The stench of the people, the heat of bodies
And… you’re not there; I forgot. I left
You at the platform. A quick goodbye
Like guzzling wine. I lost control; don’t
Ask me why. God knows why! God knows
Why. At Harvard Square, God got off
(I hear He’s tenured there)
Stepped on my foot, apologized
Was in a rush, didn’t scuff my shoe but…
He just got off. One moment He’s there
The next He’s gone. Left me there and
I went on

Adam Sax is a student studying English and German Literature. He writes in his free time.