The train is roaring as the
bathroom light is flicked on.
As the rumbling drifts
Down the tracks the hot
Air from the vent
at my knee huddles in.
As I turn off the light
The bathroom door creaks open.
I huddle, hurry, against the wall
trying to find my room.
Can hear the restless sleep
Of Dad, weary from lack of life.
The small desk lamp will
Click off soon, and I'll
Recall the scratching noise:
The sound of writing.
3.25.1990
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