Coffee brewed with morning aroma
in the apartment overlooking the rail yard.
Between curtains, curious fingers open a space
for wandering eyes.
Men with hats and stained overalls oil the
smoking metal beats. A tower switchman yells from
a window to ears thinking of lunch.
A dog runs over the twisting tracks, its tail
tucked between nervous legs, chased by a greasy hand
and a wrench.
Two boy’s point at cars connecting for a journey.
A phone rings. He steps from the curtains. He sits,
drinking his coffee as it warms him.
Roger Singer 