Transcontinental
July 31 2009


I’d rather take the train.
In a slick aluminum sleeper,
with a clever sink
a drop-down desk
a nifty fold-away bed.
The Denver Zephyr, perhaps,
or the Empire State Express.
As the world scrolls by
outside the glass,
to the comforting clatter of tracks.

Or bump along in the bar car;
with ruddy-faced men making wise-cracks,
and heavily made-up women
who refuse to act their age.
The Choctaw Rocket, perhaps;
or the Narragansett
the Dixie Flagler
the Coastline Florida Mail.

The dome is close to empty
sailing through the prairie night.
I look up
at jet black sky,
as if the roof of the world had lifted
out to the edge of space.
And look over
a moon-lit ocean of grain.
In the Land O’ Corn,
the Man O’ War,
the Commodore Vanderbilt.

You feel in constant motion
as the carriage jerks and sways;
but there is no sensation of speed.
And no urgency, once you enter,
as mileposts steadily recede.

Hanging on, by the skin of your teeth
to the non-stop Atlantic Blue Comet,
as the Peoria Rocket takes-off.
To the high-buff stream-lined dream cars
of the glittering Egyptian Zipper,
the more intimate Arrowhead Limited.
Or to a one-way no-return ticket
for a trip on the Tex Mex Express.

But nowadays, trains are numbers,
crunched
by bean-counting time-study types.
So the Empire Builder's done,
the Electroline is over.
No more Missouri River Eagle
New England Wolverine.
We commute to work, elbows touching
in double-decker diesels;
and “fly-over country” disappears
at 30,000 feet.



I read a great David Sedaris short story in the New Yorker -- it takes place on a train. I heard a Garrison Keillor monologue, and -- as he so frequently does -- there was the romantic invocation of exotic names of trains, of idiosyncratic destinations. It struck me that this wealth of evocative names offered a great opportunity for a "found" poem. I got my list from Wikipedia. Which means that it may not be accurate; but I guess good enough for poetry. The trick was to figure out how to extract the music; and how to draw the reader in, and then keep her. I'm not sure if I succeeded; but either way, here's the result. At least I hope I captured a bit of the romance of the train; if not of another age.