I'll Catch You Another Time, He Says

There's a man on this train with a too loud voice, a man in a dark blue suit. At first he seems jolly, drunk. But commuters stare out windows at the passing backs of mansions. The sun has nearly set. When we plunge into a tunnel, he lifts that credit card up, high above my head. His voice suddenly sonorous: "The life breath of man is the lamp of the Lord" I tear myself away. Goodbye, wife, he calls. I'll catch you another time. Emerging from the station, I step inside the rain. All around, it smells like trees. Impossible not to picture a forest in the fog, but there's no