A stairway brought me here:
A never closing station, a platform
Without fences, without rails,
But a faded yellow line…
A bridge with glass to stop
I know not what.

Memory is this bridge
between two fixed points I cannot see.

Lights in the dark
Fade as quickly as they come
Unmaking the world in their wake:
‘Eyes I dare not meet in dreams’
Of the seventeen-thousand-ton
Serpent seeking prey throughout the night.

But a stairway brought us here,
And we did not count the steps.

A stairway brought us here,
Confused as to which side
Of these tracks should be the right
Or else the wrong.

We went up to remember, to forget,
To trek beside the lamp-lit concrete walls,
The cavern walls with etched-out,
Stick-figure tomes of some pre-historical
Childhood with its hot chocolate waiting
For the dawn train heading East.

Trains come to rattle the bridge,
In case I should forget where we are standing.
But trains do not arrive or depart;
They come and go.

All the flashing signs are broken signs:
“All trains will arrive…All trains will arrive…”