Part 7

The smell of flesh bubbling,
Burning, searing, churning.
The couple are yelling, fighting.
The little girl is welling, crying.
The thick smoke is seeking, choking.
The men are fumbling for a break glass sign.
The woman is checking if people are fine.
The teen is drawing from an inhaler.
The old lady’s growing colder, paler.
From the next carriage sounds shrieks and screaming.
Just for a moment,
I hear a pregnant girl singing,
And I think, I hope, I’m dreaming.

Just for a moment, I lose myself,
Just spinning, floating, drifting,
To the twinkling little stars in the cool,
Dark sky.

My ringed hand in hers,
She tells me she’s pregnant
As our world dissolves in
The dazzling burst of the millennium
Alight with cascading sparks.

Just for a moment I laugh to myself,
thinking of what my son would say.
“You’re in a train daddy,
a train full of burning chips.”

“Hey son,” the phone is at my ear.
“I love you lots you know, go get mummy!”
The other hand touches my chest.
“Hey honey. Hush now. I’m sorry,
Explosion, fire, but no matter,
Just talk now.
Let me hear now.
I love you, always.”
That other hand feels the piece of metal.

The End

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