RIDE ME THE
REDEMPTION TRAIN
I was walking along Park, thinking of death :
pale rider, symbolic horse, and all the rest. Up
ahead of me, I realized, was Grand Central and
a reason for my thinking these thoughts. Someone
recently gone - wasn't that the way? Sorrow
sometimes likes to linger, though I don't know
why. These were streets I recognize, in the
light, in the dark. From some sacristy or
choral post, I heard voices rehearsing a
recitative. One, two, and then more,
words and voices together. Out front,
I saw a man alone, smoking a
cigarette in the wind.
-
'Ride me the redemption train', the voices
now were singing. So close to zero, so
near to the hour. I could have sworn an
angel descended from a rooftop post,
fluttered and, hesitating, had to decide
which of us two to take : the man
with the cigarette, or me.
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