Poems from a Train

When I die, I hope
My heaven is a train
Where I can sit at the window
Like an elegant lady
Poised, and watch
The lives and houses scroll past.
Perhaps let me step off
Every few stops
Just to wander around a while
Just until the next train comes.
I hope that in heaven
The train is bright and fast
Warm and clean and murmuring
With its wheels over cirrus tracks
"So much to see, so much to see."


A volunteer art teacher once told me
"There are no curved lines.
Even circles are made of straight lines
If you look small enough."
I didn't agree with her then.
Now, as I gaze at the sag
Of the telephone wires
The bend and bob of marsh rushes
The hump of the mountains and
The sweep of the half-frozen river
I still cannot conceive
That she was right.


I saw an airplane soar
And strike the moon.
The aircraft wobbled, but
Staid its course.
The moon, however
Is missing a few teeth.