The train may never pass

The train may never pass

This way again

How long will it be

Before the whistle is blown

On this moment of rehabilitation

The warning horn sounds

As the crossing gates close

I suspect it is the case

As it is only an interpretation

There is little to see from here

Perhaps I should have taken up the offer

Of an afternoon drink

How far would it lead?

When the steps to ruin are paved

With minor distractions

I can hear nothing of human trafficking

From the confines of this room

What noise there is can be ignored

As much as the sound of laughter

When hearing is hampered

By the onset of selective filtering

Taste buds are equally affected

The smell of flowers

The aroma of fine food all seem

To have become less desirous

As it gets easier to sit alone

Remembering the taste of salt

In the splash of sea spray

As the sailboat tacked

Leaning into the wind

How I stayed aboard

When the sea would have claimed me

For its own

If only I would have let it

Much as that distant day

When I raced a Triton

Through the early morning mist

Too fast on old country roads

That never carried any other

Perhaps the gods were with me

Are they now

I wonder

What good does it do to idle away

As old men always have

Soon there will be drooling

Who will take a clean cloth

To my sagging jaw

As once I did

So many years ago

When an afternoon like this

Belonged to someone

To whom I was forgotten

There is no blame

It is no shame

To resist the attention of strangers

As most people are

When they are new

Too many of the old ones

Have been displaced

To make it easy to replace them

With Johnny-come-lately

Even old and stately

People with whom I share no history

It is no mystery why I would

Rather be alone.