THE SILVER STAR

The Silver Star
Age 6-18, Eastern Seaboard of the USA, 1950-1962
& Age 25-28, Apex, North Carolina, 1970-1972
-- This is one poem, in an autobiographical series of poems, I posted here at WriteSpike. Go to my stories section for others. They are in chronological order. --

The question of the purpose of human life has been raised countless times;
it has never received a satisfactory answer and perhaps does not admit of one.
~ Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents

When I was six
my father put me and my older brother
on a train in New York --
a train that went up and down
the East Coast
and was known as the Silver Star

my Dad gave the porter a generous tip
to keep an eye on us
and then sent us on our way
to Florida where my mother lived

with no adult supervision
we ran down the isles
from the lounge car at the end
to the dining car in the middle

when we stopped to catch our breath
I looked out the windows
which was like a movie
where I saw glimpses of stories
edges of people lives
as we sped through backyards
of laundry and fences

ever since that trip
trains have held a magic
and the sound of their whistle
can start me dreaming

nine months later
my mother drove north
from Florida by car;
it took five days
which let me see
in slow motion
what had passed by so quickly by train:
plowed fields
tobacco barns
farm wives pulling
buckets of water from a well
rusting Model Ts
chickens and dogs running
with children

* * * * *
Later in my teens, I took the Silver Star
a dozen times
to see my father in Florida

as the sun began to fade
the homes of the mid-Atlantic
began to appear
and when the train crawled through a town
or into a station
I could see, even in the darkness,
those backyards
I had loved as a child

during the night I found myself
reading short books of psychology
Civilization and Its Discontents
by Freud
The Undiscovered Self
by Jung

at dawn after crossing the Florida line
I stood between the cars
and inhaled the sudden
humid air
the scent of palm trees
and Spanish moss hanging on the trees

* * * * *
Years later
I rented an antebellum farmhouse
in Apex, North Carolina
about 30 miles
from my graduate school

I had lived there two years
when I saw a train rushing through
on tracks that ran close to my house

as I waited at the railroad crossing
the Silver Star flew by me
"Well I'll be damned," I thought
"my backyard
has become part of the passengers' scenery."