Amtrak Station 4/23 Poem by Eli MorenoDrew

Sitting on a dirty brick floor
Cold and in the gray area between
Excited and anxious
Next to a freckled-faced girl
With a Mohawk and eating rice.
The trains and trolleys rumble by
And the Asian lady behind me is
Very close. Too close. Now she’s gone.

The time feels lethargic
But the sun falling on the
Mission-like arcs of the train depot
Is telling me otherwise,
Slowly erasing the shadow
On my crossed legs.
There’s no use Romanticizing
How Romantic I’m trying to be
By leaving San Diego for Pasadena,
My army duffle bag should explain it all.

This Hooter’s box with some leftovers
From a quick lunch
Is becoming more and more bothersome
But I never waste anything from
A word to a fried pickle.

She’s singing now—
The girl next to me—
Only loud enough for herself to understand
And me to hear escaping notes from her tune.

The line stirs,
And I follow like a child on his first train ride alone.