Train 406 Granville - Paris, 1968

Train 406, 17.24 (fêtes et dimanches) Granville - Paris Montparnasse, July 1968

The train was long and hot. Crowds swung headaches at each other
And jabbed cases on reserved seats in resentful panic.
I frowned fed-up and grabbed a space. The airless carriage out-glared the sun
And married in haste its dowdy diesel on the rebound from disillusion.

The train stood suffering in the heat. The newspaper acted as my shield
While I unbagged a peach and bit, secretly unconcerned.
The train ground everything to dust. The earth moved slowly reflecting
Dust upon the dusty window’s surface in the mottled sun.

Past Saint Sever in long and hateful gust, as if to belie its scheduled fitful mood,
The train fell. Then stopped and yawned in unconscionable boredom.
The inanimate train ceased to notice. Many stops it managed to remember,
Though no living being seemed to care whether it did, or not.

I smiled towards the flirty girl. Response was quick
As flashed the smile which quickened me.
I tried another tremulous smile and evoked
A grin of gold.

I looked again and this time she was not
Innocent of the fleeting glance.
She knelt upon the seat, carelessly reaching,
Turned, and blushed.

She moved enchanted. Her family sagely
Had not noticed how she laughed.

Argentan. The sudden stillness until the buffers clang, and steam erupts.
Now cinders fly, sparks hover as the horizon melts into twilit haze.
Can you love a fleeting moment hanging like smoke until it swirls and fades
In the branches of lineside forests?

Terminus. A glimpse, as she bent to tie a shoelace.
I got a last grin, all perfect.