richard j. fleming
They might have been veterans in some foreign army; or else they
just wore faded fatigues, read pulp novels and men’s magazines with
busty women in bondage on the cover. They would have boarded trains
for anywhere. But, the trains were always late or derailed; and the elegant
coaches had been converted to diners with teenage waitresses on roller skates.
The station clock, big as the moon, might once have told time, if time could talk.
Richard J. Fleming is a reformed street poet from Chicago. He has collected paper at a couple of Ivy facades. Because the paper pertains to English Literature & Fine Arts, he currently sells paint to starving artists. He is a member of Woodstock Nation. He has poetry published or forthcoming in Right Hand Pointing, The Rusty Nail & Danse Macabre.