Poem for Friday and Civil War Trains

Night Drafts
By Tony Sanders

Polite, intent, no fooling this time, because blasphemy
Doesn't follow Him, but the other way around. How
The silence of churches at bedtime can brighten a day,
A soul's day. How Barbie and Ken dolls from memory
Can lighten a day, even as the bad boats from upriver
Go down river, since that's what they do, move at the speed
We speak of with sublime direction. Don't listen too closely
To the thwack of halyards, don't point in the direction
Of home, when you figure out where that is. The true
Voice that is calling is guttural, lifted from graffiti
Off the walls or snippets of news that nip at your heels
As you rip bread and bless the pigeons. Gosh, onions
Or rhubarb should come to mind at a time like this,
But like the rest of us non-believers you're guilty,
Except for the sanctum of late night radio which winds
Around you like a childhood scarf, the one that was burned
Or snatched away by an older sister. Everything is happy
couched in sadness, or the other way around. The smell
Of pavement after summer rain means something
Significant though you're not sure what. These holding
Patterns we find ourselves in are guaranteed to leave us
Feeling outside of our kitchen quarrel. You never get over
The kitchen quarrel you weren't a part of but settled in,
Like an ice house on a frozen lake. No matter. The radio
Says everything melts by degrees, even you, if you care,
So the ordinary life you lead is ordinary, maybe less,
Maybe more if you light candles, or classy cigarettes
For that matter. Maybe you would like to be Russian,
Maybe the Canadian boat person on the St. Lawrence River,
Maybe just the whoosh of the air as it passed through
The tunnel after the rush-hour subway. You're human, you know,
Like the rest of us, you're stuck with that. Own up to it.

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Thursday was a mostly indoor work day for me except when I was driving Adam to and from tech after school and when I was out walking in the lovely late fall weather that arrived this first day of December. So I don't have a lot to report, other than that I can't find my Broadway cast CD of The Scarlet Pimpernel, only the concept album, and Google Music classifies every popular black singer as R&B pretty much regardless of era, instrumentation, or musical style.

Adam brought his girlfriend home to walk the dogs with him (one of the dogs has been diagnosed with incurable cancer, so son has been particularly diligent about seeing them), then went back to school for a full dress rehearsal in the late afternoon. We had mince and tatties (with fake meat) for dinner since we missed celebrating St. Andrew's Day, and watched Deep Space Nine's "The Passenger" which I have no memory of having seen before though I know I did because I reviewed it before. Here are some photos from the Civil War train exhibit at the B&O Railroad Museum: