TRAINS COME AND GO...

I live within a few blocks of the tracks and I hear the trains come and go...all day...all night. When I first moved here, it bothered me; Wasn't sure if I could handle it, or not. I've been here three years now and if , for some reason or other, there is a lull in the traffic, I begin to wonder WHAT is wrong? I guess they have their reasons for the schedules they keep, but sometimes the trains(and their whistles) are spaced farther apart than other times. I guess one might say...I miss the noise; Their comings and goings...

I remember as a boy, sleeping very lightly at night and listening to the sound of the trucks on the nearby highway. We didn't have any trains passing by where we lived back then, only trucks. The effect seems to be the same. Vehicles of any kind, moving, traveling to far away places, carrying unknown people to, who knows where. One can only imagine  WHO might be going WHERE, to do WHAT...Out of all that daydreaming can come many possible scenarios; Tales of intrigue, mystery, adventure. I always assumed that dreaming was for the young, but as I get older and spend more time thinking, I realize the imagination NEVER gets old...Just the body...

For now, it is about time for the noon train. Very soon I can begin to hear the  whistle as they approach the crossing down the street. Not far past our station is another crossing and so it seems they never let up on that whistle till  they are long past our town...

I listen, intently, to the sound of the wheels as they roll along the tracks. I have also realized the weather and the air conditions effect the sound of the wheels and the long, lonesome sounds of the whistle; It's like saying...Hello AND goodbye...Sort of like a ghost passing through time...

Today, the noon train was right on time...First, the whistle from about a mile away, then again, as they pass...
They came and went; This one headed east...

Sudden Flashes...

As I walk down the street my mind continues to play out imaginary stories of people I meet. Something about the way they look or something they do makes me wonder who they are, where they've been in their lives?  I don't judge them, I just, temporarily place them onstage, sort of like marionettes...

On the other hand I have to wonder if maybe they have their own marionettes...like me? We are all puppets on an invisible stage sometimes...
I have a million stories in my head. I need to get them out, but HOW to  tell them ?
Long days and into the late hours of the night; So much to tell...so much to write...