A Depressive Episode in a Railway Car
“I sleep on flowered meadows and chase golden butterflies”.
They promised: no pain, no grieving.
You cry a little, and then go out to eat.
They go home and lean their heads against the vibrating window of a metra line
40 miles per hour to nowhere,
Head bouncing off the glass with each sharp turn,
Skull damage be damned.
It reminds you of when you were little,
When you’d lay your head on dad’s shoulder as he walked,
And you logically knew it hurt,
His shoulder knocking into your soft, golden brain
But you couldn’t help relaxing
Seeping into the cracks of twilight sedation.
Dad’s not here.
Your stop is approaching.
You pick up dinner on the way home.
He dies later that evening.