Trains don’t really go clickety-clack
It’s more of a kadun-kadun

I’m sitting here on an old yellow-upholstered chair—vintage, I should say—in an old train still running from Here to There, and if you stay on long enough even to Over Yonder. Cause, you see, I can’t stay in Here any longer. I can’t throw up my hands and tuck in my head and pretend that there’re not horrible things happening right under my nose, right beside my dancing feet performing a quick-step around the human flotsam (“compare with ‘jetsam’”)—but that’s neither Here nor There.

My luggage—just a single suitcase—is stowed…

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