A Two Cent Train Ticket

I thought about writing a poem about the funny irony of finding a heads-up penny on the ground right after missing the last train home from the city.

That thought only lasted the amount of time it took for me to find a tails-up penny just one step away.

It then became a poem about sitting in the wet, listening to the earth-shattering rumble of trains to trivial destinations passing by on the bridge overhead.

I wish it could’ve been a poem about the great day I had at the beach with my friends and a good book, but it’s too late, I’m unsettled; waiting simultaneously for my ride home and for the pendulum of good and evil to swing back the other way.

Keaton Goodman