Last Train to Belingham
In honor of Valentine's day (A Day Late) Here's a poem I wrote for my wife, before we were married. i hope you enjoy it! Last Train to Bellingham Again the train is stopped. Sixty miles out of Portland and we've been stopped for thirty minutes. Now we're going again, and now we're stopped again. We're letting another freight train pass. Three kids next to me- (oh, Lord God, bless their mother) The crunching of a potato chip bag, nickels flung against my chair, disobedient little monsters! I scowl at them not hiding my contempt. Their mother looks (tired) at me, ready to leave the little monsters on the train. A bag of chips just exploded next to me. They are all over the floor. The carpet is greasy and crumby. I don't help pick up. The bag was exploded by Dylan Thomas. The eldest- a girl- left her books in the locker at the train station. I'd kill for a cigarette. I like the train whistle- and the guy with the disheveled pink hair and pink scar