Dream of You in Which I Am on a Train

by Laura Bonazzoli

You stand beyond the river, waving.
I think I hear you shout,
Get off at the next stop!
The wind lifts your burnished hair.
Your golden eyes reflect the sun.

Yes, I think. It is really him.
Even that silly jacket.
I lift my hand to the window, press
it flat, not waving.
I notice I am wearing your gloves.

I turn away, try to read the map:
the red line for the train,
the blue line for the river I must cross.
Where was I going before you appeared?
And how can you be so close across a river?

I stand at the exit stair. Winds
sweep the corridors of the train. 
The next stop. The doors shudder open.
I leap for endless water
or your arms.