The train,

            eight cars in length,

departs from the station

            slowly,

            intently,

            rhythmically,

down the track,

edging forward,

            inch by inch,

Gaining speed

            as it lurches and thrusts,

            heading for the tunnel

            and the fertile plain beyond.

Its double caboose

            wags from side to side,

            obediently following in tow.

As the train jumps and lunges,

            guided by the firm hand

            of the burly conductor,

I hold on,

            bear down,

            dig my heels in

            so I won’t lose my balance.

My head is spinning,

            fading from the pressure,

            the pain of traveling

                        at warp speed.

I close my eyes

            to block out the 16mm movie

            that runs fast forward

            outside the window.

Everything is a blur.

The train lurches ever forward,

            gaining in size

            and intensity.

I grit my teeth

            trying to force the waves of nausea

            from my throat,

            before they crest my lips.

The train,

            fixed on its destination,

Enters the mouth of the tunnel

            roughly breaching its darkness,

tearing through its just damp, granite sides.

It is a very tight fit,

            almost too tight.

I am afraid

            that the train will get stuck,

            or shatter the tunnel’s

                        delicately carved void.

The conductor announces

            his blatant disregard

With a belching,

            “Full steam ahead.”

The train plunges further

            into the tunnel,

Driving forcefully

            toward the fertile plain

            just on the other side.

Pumping,

            lurching,

            thrusting,

            faster and faster.

I sink inside myself.

            “When will this joy ride end?”

I slip into unconsciousness

            as the train reaches maximum force,

                        barreling down the track in the tunnel,

            spewing its hot, molten steam

                        on the fertile plain.

            Triumphant.

            Masterful.

            Conquering.

            Destroyer.

Hours later,

            when I awake,

My body aches.

My mind is fuzzy.

My mouth,

            dry and pasty.

My stomach,

            in knots.

My clothes,

            dripping wet.

The seat,

            sticky from the ride.

I wipe a tear

            from my cheek

And gaze out the window

            at the beautiful countryside.

© 2005 Cheryl A. Hemmerle. All rights reserved.