It arrived at the station, a jolt from the blue,
screeching, hissing, spitting, grunting,
they shoved me aboard – this is the journey
in store for you. So I’m riding the grief train.
 
Its comfortable now, here on the train,
cracked leather seats, windows rattling their panes,
muffled quiet, not here, not there,
empty aisles, solitaire.
 
This morning they brought breakfast again,
neat food portions in cellophane,
to stop any spills, a hollow for tea,
these precautions can't be for me.
 
Yesterday I got off the train,
walked in the streets, stood in the rain,
flowers and doors reminded me,
I should mow the lawn, get some change.
 
But my ticket’s not run so I boarded again,
to stare out the window at foreign terrain,
to travel the world but still stay the same,
to watch the people pass on the train.
 
Constant train rocking all night,
pounding on rails hard as samsonite,
to somewhere new. There’s nothing to do
but sleep and endure my carriage with you.