The Train and the River

On the train yesterday a young girl, maybe 12, stood at the front and held tight to the silver pole with her left hand.  On her right arm she wore a cast colored with red and blue magic marker to look like the American flag.  She focused on keeping her balance.  A few feet away from her, everyone else in the car was seated.  Watching her.  Reading.  Sleeping.  Staring out the window.

Her two younger brothers sitting in the front row seats were dressed alike in plaid shorts and striped shirts. Off to the zoo.  The younger one flirted with me while sitting on his father's lap. Looked at me seductively. Dismissed their parental comments. He must've been 3 or so. Funny.

There is something about the train that is like the river. It delivers. It is generated from a source. It can rescue but will not hesitate to annhilate. Its final destination may be indifferent to the individual. It brings out the best, and worst, in people.