Day in and
day out
Lovely weeds tumble through
Gas for their cars that
fly
fast east
Few and
far
between
Bulbs buzz and paint peels
Roasted peanuts wait
in
their little bags
Hours turn
days
Fumes pass the time
and chip the paint
blown
to the wind
Darkness
looms
Birds don’t pass here
No one turns west
where
the sun dies
I stand
vigil
For the day that
something
comes
The old man
looks up from his scrawls and scribbles, unsure if he has heard something.
“Theodore,” the young man says
again. He’s usually visibly flustered when he comes into the station. But
today, he looks more nervous than ruffled.
“What is it?” Theodore lightly
closes his journal and pushes it to the side.
“You know, we’ve been working
together a long time. And I-- I consider you part of the family.” He started
fiddling with the buttons on his vest. Theodore holds his tongue and doesn’t
mention that he’s been working the station since before the boy was born. “And
regretfully I must ask you… to retire.”
Slowly and with a smile he
shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that.” Theodore grips his book and
replies, “I can’t leave this place; It’d fall to pieces without me.”
“That’s…the point. We’re
starting demolition next Monday. You have until then to come to terms with it.”
Theodore knew that he’d be asked to retire sooner or
later, but he’s held onto the shred of reason that he’d be able to return and
visit. When he was alone at the station, he felt as if he had his own little
slice of the world, expansive in its own.