A young man in a loud
print shirt, baggy shorts, flip
flops, makes
a balance beam
from a track rail. Records
a freight train’s flight
through the station
to replay and give false hope to future
passengers dodging bats
passing under the eaves. Lights
from boats on moonlight
excursions and the Harbor
Bar across the channel
on the island with no name
transform the river
into a stage. Others wait
to travel west:
White Fish, Montana,
Portland, Oregon,
Chico, California,
eventually. For me, the waiting
will be longer than the journey home.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
Such longing in this poem. Wonderful images and vignettes that transport the reader right to the place. Lovely. (An interesting note, my “barge” poem–with no barge–starts out with bats. Do we have some kind of sonar going on?
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Thank you. Definitely a sonar thing happening.
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Chico CA is home?
No wonder alcoholism is in your tag line 🙂
sorry that’s not really funny, you do write very well, and those are three really fun towns
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Home for someone. Thanks for reading my blog.
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