Talk to him? Not really!
That story will inevitably
bore and become a sly window to my
own internal mirror hall – impermanent
as plummeting carriages.
I guess this train has scuttled
North and South a thousand times
and seen a share of drama,
snow and tragedy. But could I simply
be here now and let it flow?
OK, I’ll talk to him, connect our
eyes and hear the story of his love life,
diet, working stresses, strains so we will
curtain with our storybook the foxes,
badgers, beauty flashing by.
