Another Train Poem

“Gaggle” feels like a lazy word

to describe a dozen trainbound 

schoolkids crossing the border 

from France. But it’s the right one 

for the sound of their excitement, 

of the empty outlines of the world 

crinkling in with color. For us 

it was a bus to Washington D.C.

back when we were thirteen.

The fights and flirtations, foreign

words like hotel and chaperone,

novelty buoyed by boredom. 

Why hasn’t anything changed?

I saw an article this morning:

uproar over child-free cars

on the TGV. Sounded ok

to me. Why should the business man

I immediately imagined, having done

so much to escape his own kids,

have to deal with others’ offspring?

I wasn’t sure if I was even allowed

to talk to the élèves, but we had

a bit of a chat: where are you going?

where are you from? Questions

innocent and fraught, simple

yet impossible to answer

until you've already arrived,

by which time it will be too late.