The train was late –
so late it seemed 
there might be no more trains

It caught me unawares…
I was lying down: soon
it did not move – 
I did not move

Dirt from the rails
clogged up my head, filled
all those joyous spaces
where I danced

I crouched by the door
but it did not open:
young girls in bright canoes rushed past 
just out of reach, 
the water boiling

The sleeper shadows lengthened: 
the train, not moving, seemed to slow: 
rails hummed and screeched 
a crack worked its way
down the wall

There was light outside
I could not reach it yet:
there was a pain growing stronger
in my back

and I felt 
strangely tired