The 2:08

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.