Last Train To L.A.

Last Train To L.A.

“Write” said the hollering conductor

high-pitched and assertive

tired maybe

but thorough and sure

floating and flowing

it’s quiet time on this evening northbound

silent reflections of travel time

my mirror strong

eyes clear on the window’s glare

full form flashes by lite stops

empty, abandon hearts

yet I am confident

I am in front of me

waiting to take real form

to shatter this glass with my stare

talented and loving

a distant horn

southbound passes

whips by me

an unwelcome comfort.

I have a lived so much

loved many 

yet me hardly

on this peaceful train I see all shadows

my temperate light

Industrial pools of dark

mesmerized

complete

I look at me again

I am wonderful

I am the last train to LA

Angel's trumpets blare

almost home

almost there.

I am the luminous Hills

beyond my hidden reflection

my eyes race along the misted horizon

it reminds me to face myself in the dawn every day and tell that man to live

tell him to write

as much as one can

and to never hide my smile

my divine light.

Pulling in now

station to station

container after container

view obstructed but I know what is ahead

multiple lanes all converge only to part ways quickly, so quick

I see her lights

every street and tower

familiar

high above concrete rivers

we glide into the cathedral of travelers

souls coming and going

like myself

like my reflection

Movement along moonlit waters

I’m home

I’m completed

I am the last train into Los Angeles.

 Cathedral of Travelers.

Cathedral of Travelers.