Surfliner

Partially cloudy on a Tuesday at sixty-three degrees.  There was a dry heat that compressed us like pancakes. Simply giving into the curves of the motion as we sipped iced coffee with paper straws. The last train departing. Business class specific. We wrapped our arms around things unsettled.  Optimistic. Hoping for a view of the sunset.

Locomotives are the best way to see the country. We wished for nothing  more than being left alone.

Let’s go past what our minds tell us. To whatever is beyond.

The woman with blue grey hair smiled. She spoke to me as if we were confidants. Trains are so romantic. Shame on anyone who doesn’t appreciate the true beauty of the machine.

She waved her hand for emphasis. I wanted to ask her why? Where she came from and where she was going.

Then I thought better. The moisture on the glass reminded me we were like a caterpillar winding deep in the earth.