There is a noise in the system and a noise within me. Somewhere, right now, a train rattles as it moves at lightning speed. A man with a briefcase lays his tired head on the train seat. He is married possibly, or at least engaged, we can assume based on his shiny silver ring. One hand lays folded on top of the other. He sways in and out of sleep, bobbing his head and every few minutes, inhaling abruptly each time he reawakens. We make our way through industrial wastelands, fields with dead grass /// through swamps with rotten trees that pierce the horizon with their broken, fragmented limbs. A person coughs behind me. Others nearby click away at their computers. 

 

The train pauses for a few minutes at each station. The conductors greet new passengers as they rush onboard, scraping their luggage across the train entrance’s metal floor. They survey the train to select the perfect seat. >>> Outside the window, those who exited march onward into the distance, maybe toward their dinner tables or to sink into the solace of their bathtubs or to lay their heads onto a soft pillow. Maybe towards a lover, I’d hope that, but who really knows. The train takes off again, the next stop is Philadelphia, and the noise resumes - - - - - light chatter, clicking of laptop keyboards. The man with a briefcase next to me is still sleeping. His head rests against the seat, headphone wires dangle from each ear, and the train rattles on and on. It vibrates the dangling wires; it vibrates his sleepy skull.

​

​