Commuter Train
Across the street the train on the track
behind the line of buildings its horn works hard
to push itself around the red brick blocks
Impatient and hoping. Then there is the relief
of reaching a break in the row. With what glee
the sharp-nosed engine slides the horn into the gap
free and loud and a blare blare blare
that speeds on along the embankment
behind the next set of red brick blocks
and sure the noise rattles their trackside windows
but out here at the street –
nothing but a chastened honk
The difference between a vigorous sneeze
and a polite blowing your nose
from the train that travels on
horn
faded out now
into a long thin stretched-out memory
9/19/19
9/27/19
9/30/19
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
I’m imagining this as the same train the person in the other poem just barely got around.
I love that idea. I think a lot about trains since I live in the midst of so many lines, active and retired (like the Pennypack Trail). There are intersecting stories just as the lines intersect, and infinite numbers of connections, aren’t there?
Yes, there are. I remember being so fascinated as a child when trains ran behind my parents’ antique store in Dallas. We can here freight trains here.
Whenever I travel on trains between buildings built right up against the tracks, I find myself wondering whether people get used to the noise and vibrations of the trains, whether they maybe even find it comforting after a while. I cannot imagine I would ever get used to it.
I think I’d love to live near the train like this. I do find the sound comforting and the regular appearances are kind of stabilizing, it seems to me.