Locomotive Shuffle
My poem “Locomotive Shuffle” was published in Poets Unlimited on Sept. 12, 2016. Here’s a link:
It published without spaces between the stanzas, for some reason. Here’s the poem, with blank lines, as it was intended.
Locomotive Shuffle
A poem
chuffing and chugging, steel on steel
locomotive roar rips open the shroud
of night, bright lights splinter it open
a telltale symbol, this trinity on tracks
cyclist plants himself at the crossroads
of X, earbuds squeezed in, iPod set on
shuffle mode, listens to the soundtrack
of an otherwise meaningless existence
what if it’s not true life flashes before
your eyes? what if, he thinks, the ears
have the epiphany, of sounds swirling
inside your head? the flashes of music
track one is tull: engine shakes, shuffles
locomotive breathes, shining its unholy
lights on quivering brow, no way even
God can slow the damn machine down
those tunes that make up a soundtrack
are from an earlier era, his father’s, like
train cars bumping he’s a rebel , no duty
to dad or God but the tunes are way cool
the boy on the bike wonders: Is he one of
the people ready for the train’s a-coming?
is this the Kingdom’s Throne hiding place
as the diesels hum and the whistles warn?
the rails heave under the bulk of the train
like those final breaths in his father’s chest
in that hospital room years ago, no words
sacred or profane would cross his dying lips
screaming close, brakes shrieking steel on steel
he remembers the day his tire rolled over a bird
on this trail. No way to slow down. Did the finch
see it coming? Conscience makes cowards of us
don mclean’s as good as any if you’re going to
shuffle off this mortal coil, one-hit wonder but
oh what a hit! miss america pie — wasn’t it an
ode to buddy holly, a life snuffed out too soon?
can the music
save the boy’s mortal soul?
is this the day
that he dies
along
with the
music?
the trinity of
bright lights
blinds him
and he
wants
to sing out
about
the three men
he admires most
the
father
son
and that third guy
are they on
this last train,
or somewhere out there on the coast?
the boy on the bike did not see Satan laughing
with delight as he snuffed out his sacrificial rite
of madness, rolling off the cold, steel rails while
his music still pulsed alive, bright on this night
Bye, bye
