THE TRAIN TO AND FROM HOME, 12/16/17

Standing at the station in Absecon

with a heavy coat over my suit and leather shoes submerged under snow

until concrete. Sing to me –

He says I’m living over city,

all the streetlights glow orange down here and nothing is

taller than the telephone poles.

 

Neon lights on the white

horse pike. My brother’s here to scoop me up

In the white ford he smashed at Sunoco on the yellow divider poles

the first time he drove it with me

riding shotgun.

 

I’m swaying on the platform swigging

an expensive bottle in cheap pants

and red socks with bulldogs wearing Santa hats on em.

This old dog ain’t about to forget

barking up the wrong tree until the cyan sun set

and baked it’s initials into the ozone layer.

Oh, zone out and see me seeing you on the train back home

out the window at night

when black trees block everything but Christmas lights

 

I’d break the lights in here for some shutters

for some shuteye

for some-

Shut up.

Foursome at the lounge later.

Bring Valvoline and as many stuffed animals as you can.

We’re getting freaky.

 

Lindenwold.

E&J and cherry coke.

 

Remember singing in the tunnel?

Remember the acoustics?

 

Another sip.

The bottle is a jacket, don’t need no koozie.

 

We need your camera, Cass.

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Published by

zackmarshall

English Major at Temple University. Best Fiction Award-winner at the 2016 ACCC Comm Awards. Published in the 2017 edition of Rewrites Magazine.

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