On the Platform
The train was late, so we stood on the platform
staring down the track into darkness,
and my father said
“Don’t wish your life away,”
said it with a slight smile, a little joke,
a little wisdom I could have for free
as I walked down to the far end and back
just to feel my legs move, shake off the weight
of doing nothing, and then the train roared in
and we’re riding into night,
rain beating against the windows,
thickening, turning to snow as we travel west.
Steve Klepetar has cancelled his trip to Canada because they won’t let him buy Nova Scotia.