We lift our heads from our computer screens

throughout the day: Amtrak’s whistle

a whiff of the world passing through town.

Where would we rather be than at our desks?

But the guy who failed to outrace the 4:15

had no job, in a hurry anyway,

and we had already flex-timed ourselves home

when he ran and ran and the whistlecall

wouldn’t stop, brakes futile,

red lights flashing, bells clanging

as the aerodynamic engine found him,

the sound of impact just two blocks away,

his blue baseball cap sailing to the great beyond.

Did he think he was Mercury

with winged heels, or did the horn

intoxicate him as it does us

so that he turned to harmonize

with the long wail of his mistake?

For a second their voices joined.

Next morning we heard the news

and a solo at 8:47.

 

 

Joanne Lowery’s poems have appeared in many literary magazines, including Birmingham Poetry Review, Eclipse, Smartish Pace, Cimarron Review, roger, and Poetry East. Her chapbook Call Me Misfit won the 2009 Frank Cat Poetry Prize. She lives in Michigan.