Emotions and Farewells

A man’s nostalgic last train ride

Early Morning Santa Barbara Tracks. Photo by the author.

At daybreak, I find myself
on a train for the last time,

unaware of how I got on,
speeding past that little boy
on a Stingray bike,
screeching by the poor guy
who’s losing his hair,
crying all the way
into middle age
with a failed marriage,
two kids and a dying dog,
wanting to get off
but the conductor said:

We are on the express train.

My last journey
was a red-eye,
a destination to neither
heaven or hell,
riding over rickety tracks
of emotions
and farewells.

I sat by the window
as the seasons changed,
counting my losses and gains,
my lumps and bruises,
hearing a “Horse With No Name,”
scenes from Here to Eternity,
hearts I’ve broken,
and women moving me
to tears.