Fred Ostrander
The Station 3
The past we chase. A train moving out. Great blasts of steam,
great wheels, gradual at first, out of the station-
glass, iron ceiling, and steam dispersing.
And a ridiculous figure who runs hopelessly, helplessly after
an untraceable past.
Those whom he loved were so briefly present. They do not look back,
they being of the past. As he slows, without breath,
perhaps stumbles, catches himself, and turns back slowly, reluctantly,
disbelieving, in confusion of loss, death, memory, tricks,
and falsifications of his time.
What is it they take with them?
Returning to a vacant, waiting present, the numberless clocks,
a station with all trains gone.
Page(s) 40
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