We stopped at the flashing red lights
On the way to the airport
Dawn was just beginning to break
Behind the silhouetted trees
To ease the tension
I said I don’t really mind trains
Because I love to watch the graffiti
And listen to the sound
My driver perked
“Me too” he said
“The artwork can be
really good!”
After that our conversation turned
to woo’s and ahh’s
when the red lights illuminated
a particularly snazzy design
The caboose came and went
but the flashing lights stayed
as another set of freight
followed directly behind
“Well shoot” I said
“Guess we shouldn’t have
enjoyed that last one so much.”
My train spotting companion laughed
We continued admiration
Comfortable in each other’s company
As if surrendering to engine number 2
was a choice
We were rewarded
with huge letters near the end
that said “Frac the Police”
Erupting us in grand finally laughter
Sometimes Joy happens
in moments of waiting
through intentional misspellings
revealing the purpose of resistance