just as the rain became heavy.
I did not move.
I had dreamed that I was on fire
standing on the platform
while the train moaned
into the station.
the conductor offered me a drink
from a brown paper bag.
I declined.
awakened by thunder
I clawed at the tall crabgrass.
turnpike traffic
streamed in the distance
but could not see
the words formed on my lips
the name
I can no longer hear.
Paul David Mena
29 May 1997
Somerville, MA
