Lying on the railroad tracks

4:00 am and I hear your mournful whine
across three blocks and filtering into my dreams.

In the unfocused clarity that follows,
my eyes open and think that you've called to me,
tugging at the strings that bind my spirit.

I once played with trains,
brightly colored replicas suitable for a child's tender sensibilities.
You are nothing like them.
You are black and heavy,
an ancient god built an angry iron heart.

I would sacrifice myself to you
and you would carry me away to the dark place
only trains know.
You call again, sensing the desire rising within my chest.

Come away.
Come away for eternity.
No more sorrow, pain,
disappointment, failure,
self-loathing, loneliness...

But who would clean up the mess?
It's cold out and these old bones don't want to move.
Would I stick on my slippers at 3:45
and hurry down the block to my last vacation?
Heaven forbid I go out after dinner and lie there all night.
It would be like camping and I hate camping.

This bed is soft and warm.
I shut my eyes - shut my ears
Shrug and snuggle into the comforter,
wrapping it tightly around me,
losing myself in numbness and lethargy,
the last line of defense for a life too worn thin and devoid of -

But it's best not to obsess on those things.

Listen.
The train speeds over cold steel rails
its rhythm is a lullaby.
A rocking beat meant only to take me into back to dreamland.
When the daylight pierces my mind,
such morbid, idle fancies will dissipate,
no more than a mist.

A little battle won
until the train calls me again.