Why did I let him out the door
without a string
tied round his belt.
I want to pull him back,
say one more time
look both ways,
cross with the light,
walk your bike over the tracks,
don't cross the rails
when the gate is down . . .
but one foot was on the pedal,
the other pushing off.
When the last car
of the eastbound express
roared past,
bells still clanged,
lights still flashed,
but around the gate he rode,
forgetting the chant
of railroad wheels
can shroud the wailing whistle
of a westbound freight.
He had no wallet
in his pocket
to tell them who he was,
no weight of time
upon his wrist,
no string dangling
just out of reach.
Comments