The diesel locomotive wailed
Like a sick bull as it approached
The intersection; five bellows.
The dreaded traffic light turned red
And all of us just sat waiting
For this snaillike, slow-moving
Freight train to pass, while the traffic
was backing up to infinity.
Life becomes a standstill in time:
If your appendix burst, pray to god;
If you’re in labor, tough titty;
If late for work, you curse and swear!
So you wait and count the freight cars...
One hundred one…one hundred two…
Onward west they roll
Swaying, screeching, click-clanking
Along rusty tracks.
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Comments: 4
You're giving your age away. "hobo" is a nineteen-thirty and forty[ish] noun used to describe the impoverished vagrant as the result of the great depression who used the rails in the unlikely chance of finding work elsewhere.
I am only 67 but come from north of Mobile, Alabama. Growing up there were hobo's who regularly rode the rails in boxcars. In fact Roger Miller's song King of the Road was about them and was very popular when I was a teenager. There were still a few when I moved away from Mobile 2 years ago and we still called them hobos.