No Trains To Chesterton Poem by Mark Money

a chill breeze blows off the sea.
brown paper rolls along,
kept afloat by the western wind.
i must be alone with my thoughts;
especially now.

there are no trains to Chesterton tonight
not even a Model T on a milk run.
the money is still in my suitcase,
making it feel heavier than lead.
i ought to be in Chesterton
i ought to be looking for you at the station.
but the lights of the ferris wheel burn brightly in the sky- -
my feet trudge toward them and the carnival comes into view.
i find my van somehow and go in
and stare at the faceless face that confronts me.
my clown's eyes clear
and i laugh at the tear at the corner of my eye.
my gaze wanders to the suitcase on the bed....

maybe the director hasn't missed the money
maybe i could put it back between shows....