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