The Yellow Line

Train on time on time on time morning

light sun piece of round fire orange coal

day for all those workers start again start

again pick up Daily start again then again

Cal Ave Redwood City Belmont Hillsdale

sleek horses at the Meadows nostril

early morning air lawn sprinkler backlit

while jockey lifts his butt clamps knees

hooked to stirrups yes canters through the

paces through the faces of commuters

ticket please coffee cup almost drained

sleepy eyes perfumed women heels and flats

to Burlingame Broadway Next stop South City

Caution: the doors are about to close

track signs There is help symbol: hands

clasped hands 1-800-SUICIDE clasped

woman with her Safeway plastic bag

in hand It’s Friday! rejoices to her friends

arthritis slowing her pace off the train off

the platform toward 9 to 5 watchers below

phone wires that glow with sun hum

words of Good morning of two friends

greeting or a mother calling her son

moved from home under eyelids of awnings

early 60’s apartment rushes out the front door

just in time for his train

 
almost late for a Financial District job

buttoned down wingtipped so sleek he

tucks a rainbow keychain in a silk vest

pocket yes a friendly atmosphere but one

can never be too safe his partner tells him

kissing his cheek packed lunch in hand a wave

rolling away he watches everything become

small as it leaves becomes not there what

once was there a thoroughbred appears so

sure of himself but still needs a tender hold

steam rises from the grass from the bodies

from the grates on the sides of the street

from the doors closing breath on this

sweet chilly morning while Daily headlines

a man who killed 10 in a fruit market

rogue car stopping over bodies stepping

over bodies up the steps to a seat on a train

heading backwards but  somehow getting there

we do in spite of all with each start a rough

a grinding engine some day won’t turn over

will be over over again Amen we grace ourselves

by listening watching for Caution: Fast Moving

whether to Stay Behind the Yellow Line wring hands

or sing in the key of the train of the train of a train

diminishing cries becoming small soon being

not there.

Janice Dabney