Carl, Eric and I sat on a storm fallen tree,
on an elevation overlooking our town’s shunting yard.
Mars and the sun was warming us,
not just hanging about being pale and insipid.
Birds were busy picking tiny twigs
ready to do be a part of the endless cycle of reproduction.
While sitting there and feeling at ease
with the world shunting a bottle of vodka between us Carl
got so overwhelmed
that he began crying
talking about his little boy
his ex wife wouldn’t let him see
and about Jesus.
Eric and I ignored him
and talked ‘If’ politics setting the world to right.
When the bottle was empty
and we had drunk the beer we had in a bag,
we’re tired and walked down to the yard,
climbed into a nearly empty goods wagon
and went to sleep.
Later a guard awoke us told us to get lost!
and we’re in another nameless town.
Walking around this awful place
we came across a corner shop that sold beer.
The grocer wouldn’t sell us any
since it was after six o’clock,
but we kept staring at him till he relented.
Followed a disused rail-track
till we found workman hut
broke open it’s lock
and settled for the night.
Awoke early
Carl wasn’t there
but outside asleep
with his head on a track
waiting for a train that would never come.
Eric and I cheered him up
gave him the two last bottles of beer.
Since it was morning
and the same birds appeared to be picking the same tiny twigs
we began walking home.
Carl having survived a suicide attempt
was cheerful
told us daring stories about himself,
tales he had wanted to tell his little son,
which we didn’t believe a word of,
yet entertaining
and the good sun warmed our backs.