The train was subterranean right there.
We lived beside a curving length of track.
Of course we had no windows, and the scare
was always in traversing out and back.
For sure the tracks, of shining silver black,
were laid between the walkway and our door.
It took a dash of brave to dash, and more.
I recollect the artificial light,
dull yellow on the seamless curving wall,
and momentary hesitating fright,
regaining home and family. It’s small –
one dream of three that I can still recall:
a dwelling near a train beneath the earth,
connoting neither sex nor my own birth.