He is stuck.
The slow journey home.
Frost on the line
or something.
Doesn’t question it.
It’s

In a soft excited voice they carry on their conversations
As if your ears tuned to various radio

I.

In the cold & damp of the just-broken day

we pass through a narrow valley

Fields

—a poem for two or more voices

I.
We boarded before 8 a.m.
I rested my head on the window

[Stanza 1]
I DID NOT know your name when we met on the train
destinations like ghosts who have