Time To Remember Ii Poem by Morgan Michaels

In the station they saw lots of whey-faced Amish who looked remarkably like Hassids, thought Donnie, with their yellowish beards and wide-brimmed hats. With a handful of others they waited in the dimness, illumined by vending machines. Donnie tried to think warm thoughts, with only middling success. Some of those waiting had lap-tops that chimed the arrival of every new e-mail. Donnie said he was still hungry and sent Ronnie to the door to see if there were any restaurants- even a pizzeria- nearby. Grudgingly, Ronnie obliged. Crossing the floor stiffly, he peered out into the driving snow and, returning without a word, shook his head, no, and sat back down. After a couple of hours on the hard benches, the Chicago train arrived and they boarded. There would be a change, they knew, in the wee hours, but they tried to sleep as well as they could in the comfortless seats, that seemed scientifically designed to instill the cramp and revive sciatica. After a while came the predicted transfer. They disembarked from train # 1 and entered the freezing night air, instantly awake. In sullen, silent queue, the passengers marched with their baggage along the dark open-air corridor formed by the stationary trains, the snow crunching underfoot. As the second train pulled away they again tried to sleep. Very early in the morning they reached Union Station where they stopped for good.

Since check out time at their hotel was noon and they had plenty of time to kill, they wandered across the street to the Head House, with its famous Corinthian colonnade. As Ronnie sipped coffee, Donnie studied the ceiling of the grand old structure where 'The Untouchables' was filmed, his mouth a perfect O.

'This is a town that takes its architecture seriously', he told himself.