THE TRANSCONTINENTAL LOCAL

for Isabella Thallas

POSTAMBLE: a 21-year old Denver woman was murdered by an AR-15 aimed from the first-floor of an apartment building turned into a book depository. The gun owner was pissed beyond patience that her dog peed on the lawn. Used a military-grade weapon to make it a federal offense, punishable by death, against increasingly uncommon decency. I want Al Sharpton to speak at her funeral now that White is the new Black. Since he won’t, I’m organizing a cross-country funeral procession by rail of my own. I hear the whistle of an approaching train right now. Listen until it passes.

1

This train ain’t no Express, mister.

You boarded a local

that carries the body

of a girl who died before her time

got moved up.

Some fatal fracas over a canine’s urine.

Now the company is slowing time down

so she can get some back

of what was owed her.

2

Seems like the whole countryside

has become a station stop.

But no one’s boarding

and no one’s getting off

until the train

comes to a full stop.

Don’t fret, mister.

Even snails reach an end