Waiting for a Train

I was in a train station way out in nowhere. Nowhere was a flat place with some mountains cloudy in the distance. Trains went by once a day each way. The station was so small that the same man sold tickets and candy. I had a ticket already and two heavy pieces of luggage and a long wait before my train.

Now in Boston you can see everyone you know in the space of a week, even if they aren't supposed to be in the country, and not be surprised. This was not Boston. I didn't expect to see another soul on the platform.

Least of all a once-lover. I don't think he was expecting to see me either. I didn't ask why he was there, just gaped open-mouthed at his familiar lean form, the long ragged hair with the blue streak. He had told me he never dreamed, and when we broke up I had nightmares about the things he said he feared the most.

The first time we fucked was the night of a rainy day. I don't remember that as well as what we did in the empty house while waiting for the oil delivery. There was no furniture but a bean bag chair and some boxes of peoples' books that had been carried up the stairs and left there. Rain had soaked into both our leather jackets. We embraced, then kissed and bit, he leaning way down to reach my mouth. Nervous, because of what we...