Mystery Train

I met the strangest young man At the train station Saturday, Said he was a Grateful Dead fan Both of us headed the same way Riding the Metroliner to Boston 8 hours up the coast all night, Sat in coach, across from the john He was next to me on the right It was quiet, drab and dark And the cabin appeared empty, No new passengers embarked None, other than him and me He stared at me, as I read Pretending to be immersed in a book, Not a word from him was said He just gave an intense look Charcoal eyes fixed in an eerie gaze Making me so intimidated and nervous, Peered into me like profane x-rays Baring my soul, felt so perverse “Sir, it’s rude to glower!” Only after some time did he cease, If only for a half an hour Got a bit of solitude and peace Lost in reverie, I took a welcome nap, Then I awakened to the sound of heavy sighs This guy was sprawled across my open lap, His hands crawling upon quaking thighs I let out a hell-raising yelp, The on-call train conductor ran Again I yelled, hoping for help, “I was groped by some crazy man!” The railroad engineer let out a laugh He told me it must have been a bad dream, “There’s nobody here but our kitchen staff And a frail old lady”, or so it may seem That ghostly man I never did find He remains a disturbing mystery to this day, But those hands still haunt my mind And those turbulent, profound eyes of gray; ...later I found his ticket stub, it was dated 1969. © 1/23/02, 3/17/04 SmSAnother fictitious story... Written February 24th, 2002 © on Feb 24 2002 08:06 AM PST, Sheryl Marcia Schwartz   6 • 4 • 1