Poem: Train to Seattle
Train to Seattle
Written May 9, 2017
I’m on the train to Seattle.
It’s 2013 and I haven’t met you yet.
It is slow getting out of the station on Main
not like the British trains in a rush
to go everywhere as soon as they can.
It goes over the trestles on the Fraser
that I see all the time and wonder what they are for.
It rounds the corner at Crescent Beach and
travels along the shore where I spent
so much time as a kid digging for shells and crabs
and building forts out of driftwood.
My old town doesn’t have a real station anymore.
Just one for tourists, a place to sell paintings and
beach windmills and we move through it slowly,
past the pier with that feeling like you live a long way
away and you go to your hometown without dropping in
to see anyone, but I blame it on the train.
It’s a different feeling when I go into the pho
place at Main and Hastings.
The place you showed me.
And buy one sub instead of the two
that I used to buy when I would arrive at your place
and kiss you before we turn on the hockey game.
by Wendy Stewart