trainsongs - commuter daydreams and subway serenades

okay, I'm not a native Bostonian. born and raised in a small town called New York, I spent my adult life eeking out a nomadic existence, never quite comfortable in any given place for very long. ironically I find it perfectly fitting to settle in a region that prides itself on its toughness, but I couldn't be more surprised to hear myself refering to it as "home".

it must be the trains.

I've lived in several large cities knit together by mass transit, but only in the past few months have I found myself utterly obsessed with the sight, sound and feel of the railroad. I dream of trains. when I can't sleep, I imagine the wind to be the incoming red line, and I'm out like a light.

not all of these poems speak of trains, but all of them - from the dirges of longing to the whimsical musings of office supplies - possess the restlessness of Porter Square or the loneliness of North Station after the last train. like the T from Kendall Square they are my way home.

I hope you enjoy the ride.

Paul David Mena
29 January, 1997
Somerville, MA

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