midnight train to zurich

the conductor waved the lantern one time long and slow
looking back the engineer nodded and we pulled out of the station
exactly seven a.m. by the black metal ornate clock we passed.
although, and i shivered, it was half past midnight in my heart.

it was evident the guy had stolen the porters jacket
as witnessed by what he had,
a giant bloodstain bullet hole leaking out
where his brains out'a be.

so i sipped my coffee quietly
and noticed it tasted like an amateur made it.
looking into the face of the cat woman,
a conspiratorial smile wet her lips.

remembered my chic long black wool frock
left at home hanging alone in the dark closet;
instead wore my nylon Cleveland Indians jacket
with Chief Wahoo on it.

he ripped a hole in the knee of his pants
escaping the clutches of his ticket-checking girlfriend,
i saw his eyes steel-over as he punched my ticket,
Robert Ludlum would have left this character bound in baggage.

a clang i felt more than heard when the porter dropped his revolver,
then went to pick it up and seven passports
slipped like snowflakes from his pocket and fell to the floor.
he looked up, i saw written in his expression the words
forget it ever happened.