The Train Station of Life
We had coffee again. He was
standing
on the station platform
waiting for his train.
I had come and gone two,
three, a hundred
times since our last cup of
coffee, but he was
still standing there waiting for
his train. He
talked of fixing his fence
again, but his mind
was torn between cedar posts or
pressure
treated lumber. “If I go and
cut cedar posts
they’ll be good for the rest
of my life; but
that’s a lot of work, and I
don’t have a truck.
On the other hand, treated lumber
costs an
arm and a leg, and I can’t
afford that right
now. My train pulled up and I
got on,
leaving him standing there
again.
Composed
in Nipigon, Ontario
Date
unknown: 1990-2000
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