Speed

Sometimes trains move at the speed of a funeral procession. When they are going very fast they shake and jolt into the darkness and I get anxious. When it is very late, the train slows in tandem with my waning energy. If I'm late for work, the train can miraculously make me on time. Other times stops come quicker when absurdity finds itself in one of the cars. A practicing preacher, a maniacal isolated dancer, a family of musicians, story tellers, avengers. Passed out passengers and explosions don't really seem to slow the trains down much. Watching a train pull out as you come down the stairs sure does.