Through past/present/future, the Oriental Express still clatters,
bending time, space and everything else that really matters.
The eclectic, co-mingled aroma
of Turkish coffee, French onion soup
and spicy Kung Pao almonds,
wafts through the observation deck,
stinging the ornamental eyes
delicately carved into the interior bas-relief.
blinking wide open,
pupils melt like hot candle wax,
dripping onto the toes tip-tapping
alongside the steady music beating
off of the iron bones spinning 'round below.
Barely, just barely,
they hear the yardman's migratory yearnings,
as he switches the tracks of thought -
so mesmerized they are
by the moistened, black boughs
speeding by the open, lead windows.
Pale faces dangling from the laden branches,
strange, intoxicating fruit
so comfortably close to fingertips,
their spiral prints bending time, space
and everything else in-between that really matters