Locomotive Dream (Poem by Leah Mueller)

  

Locomotive Dream

 

Dinner on the Amtrak train

between Portland and Tacoma

is a microwaved burrito, but

 

at least it’s vegan. I gnaw

half-frozen beans and dream

of a different tableau: tables covered

with linen cloths, gilded platters,

elegant silverware. Fantasy meal 

 

for two with a view of fields, 

rolling its cartoon reels

between glamorous locales.

 

Instead, I lean against the wall

to peer through cracked windows,

while stunted lines of mini marts

sprout like mushrooms from 

 

sidewalk cracks. In fifty minutes,

the train will deposit me

at Tacoma Dome Station, and

passengers will scatter like ants,

anonymous and frantic.

 

Outside, a boy plays solo

on the sidewalk. A stray dog wanders

across the street, looking for 

something he lost that afternoon. 

 

America in the twenty-first century:

how swiftly it runs without arriving.

Leah Mueller's work is published or forthcoming in Rattle, Writers Resist, Beach Chair Press, NonBinary Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Citron Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Does It Have Pockets, Outlook Springs, Your Impossible Voice, etc. She has received several nominations for Pushcart and Best of the Net. One of her short stories appears in the 2022 edition of Best Small Fictions. Her thirteenth book, "Stealing Buddha" was published by Anxiety Press in 2024. Website: www.leahmueller.org.