Copies of this book are available for $5 for shipping and handling from Kevin Burgess at kevin@bls-surveys.com
The Queen City
Lent came and went.
But the mood
In the city
Had not changed.
The river high and muddy.
The current never so swift.
The tugs strained mightily
To make headway
Against the current.
The quarter mile long coal barges
In Front.
The sturdy diesel engines
Of the tugs
The only thing
Keeping the barges
From washing
Wildly downstream.
I ducked into a tavern
Down by the viaduct
And pushed the rainwater
Back through my hair
And down to the
Nape of my neck.
I sat at the bar
And listened to
A young lady.
A waitress.
Mary.
And why not Mary.
Tell an older patron
About the new tattoo
Over her breast.
A Rose.
And why not a rose.
In the afternoon
I bundled my coat around me
And walked out into the rain.
Down Ludlow Avenue
To a music store
And bought strings for my guitar.
I followed dusk back
To the hotel.
Climbed the stairs
To my room
Opened the door.
And remembered
It was my 25th birthday.
Lent came and went
But the mood
In the Queen City
Had not changed.
The Woman in the Navy Blue Dress
The train station
Lies in the bottom
Along the river
And away from the town
Built into the hillside.
A soft rain falls
Around the station
As the day shifts
From Black to grey.
A couple stand
On the wooden planks
Of the platform.
The woman in a Navy Blue Dress.
Her blonde hair tucked into a bun.
The couple lingered in bed
And there was no time for beauty.
On this morning.
The man stands in
Workman’s clothes.
A black fedora tilted
Back on his head.
The dampness and human passage
Give the station
A dank musty smell
Of 1940.
But it is 60 years later.
Pillared columns and
Ornate woodwork
Date the station
To the era of the couple’s
Parents youth.
The whistle
Announces the arrival
Of the Northbound
And the couple enjoy
A last embrace.
The woman boards the train.
The man reaches
Into his pocket
And feels the woman’s eyeglasses.
He hands the glasses
To the conductor.
Asks him to deliver them
To the lovely blonde
That just boarded.
The conductor does not need a name.
He has seen her.
The man leans against
A column
And smiles wanly
As the woman passes by
In the window of the train.
It is the last time they
Will see each other.
© Kevin Burgess