COUPLE EMBRACE IN TRAIN’S PATH
This poem’s been vexing me since May 13, 2002, when I pulled an article out of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel with the same title. I can’t find the article now – it’s in a journal somewhere. And my attempts to find the story online yielded the this.
The facts: a New Jersey couple that had gone too far down the rabbit hole decided there was only one way out. They decided to stand in front of an oncoming train.
Something about the story struck me with this awful image of drug-addled romance. I saw the whole thing playing back like a movie; the opening scene is a foggy morning train platform; a young couple walks toward the tracks; no one’s paying any attention; then the train comes on and the scene jumps into the story of what got them there.
I made the mistake of trying to tell that story in a poem (hence the “vexing” comment from above). From there I went in a couple of different directions, including trying to address why this story was affecting me so deeply. Then I forgot all about the poem until this week’s Read Write Poem prompt. Initially I was going to write about a star orbiting backwards, but two days ago I remembered this headline.
This latest approach is fairly simple: a dead couple having an argument.
COUPLE EMBRACE IN TRAIN’S PATH
There we are. See, a hand, a lip, one thousand bones
scattered the moment we squeezed shut our eyes.
You’d like to head back? Fine. Go ahead. Seep
into your sister’s dream while she sleeps in your bed.
Visit my father’s mourning couch, the remote like a crest
in his lap.
I won’t be at the funeral. They can bury us however they want.
I’d rather not float close to the ground, buzz someone’s leg,
have them think I’m there.
The moral? There is none, just the tracks that led us here.
Kids-gone-bad type PSAs playing in a loop
against dim afternoon health class light. A film
in the Say No to Drugs series, still-shots from prom,
my hand around the mark in your arm you wanted to hide.
We were never good kids. Like anyone else
in that shit town we finally left. There was never enough
to keep us from the junk under Jones Bridge.
You’re the one who talked about hopping a train, riding
one long ride west. You said you didn’t care
where we got. Just that we got. I simply said
there was no use getting anywhere. We’d still be stuck
in these frames. And you agreed.
Let’s break the speed of light tonight. See what it’s like
drifting into stars. Find a planet with an opposite pull.
I told you I’d give you all of this. Why so afraid?
I have a very hard time understanding the suicidal mindset, but I think you did as good a job probing it as any could. Having grown up near a busy railroad line, it’s the sort of death that has always haunted me.
This is very powerful. The last stanza is beautiful.
It’s funny how everyone’s mind is so different. When I first read what the poem was going to be about, I thought if I wrote it it would be about the poor person driving the train who would never get over what he had been a part of…OH! maybe you could put in a part two about that and then he kills himself and asks them why in the hell they ruined his life?
“You’d like to head back? Fine. Go ahead. Seep / ” What a powerful, evocative line this is. Orpheus and Eurdice. Lot and his wife. I empathize with the woman who wants to look back! Also, I like how your previous intent to write about the planet orbiting backward became a distant influence on the backward glance of this poem. Isn’t it wonderful how the artistic process unfolds?
What drives them to it? And to do it this way? It’s always happening here in Britain, too. This was a great exploration.
You’ll find mine here.
Dave – thanks. I was afraid to write this poem and even more afraid to share it, mostly because I didn’t want to even try to imagine the suicidal mindset. I appreciate your kind thoughts.
Fantastic concept, Cynthia. I was also thinking of the possibility of the moment as a harbinger for one or more of the witnesses waiting to board the train that day – in the truth of the event, the couple did this right at the start of a busy morning commute. So there was a bit of exhibitionism to what they did.
Therese – thanks for your thoughts. You’re right about the concept of the backward spinning planet having worked its way into this piece. Amazing how it works – it’s best to stand clear and let what will happen happen.
I appreciate your thoughts –
Dave
Thanks Anthony. We’ll never know about the motivation. I was a bit paranoid (and still am) as coming across as someone who can even begin to guess. So many reasons, so many situations.
I appreciate your thoughts and insight.
still-shots from prom,
my hand around the mark in your arm you wanted to hide.
So many wonderful details in this poem, but the one above is my absolute favorite. The details make it real instead of a stereotypical young-lovers-in-peril-end-it-all story.
To me this is very sad, but I think this was an intriguing way to explore the thinking that would drive people to do such a thing. I am glad you ended the poem with an escape for the reader “now that were dead lets go do this fun
thing”. The poem makes me happy I am not a train engineer. I really like the way you approached the “mind set”. I think they would argue after too. I am having a difficult time leaving a “great poem,Dave!” comment because this poem has really disturbed me. I guess that means you were successful.
there was no use getting anywhere. We’d still be stuck
in these frames.
I like the idea of frames. Your technique of imagining the thought processes is great. Coincidence that I’ve also written about railway death, by accident though, so nothing poetic about that.
Dave -
This is an interesting and very sober take on, what to conventional thinking, is a most desperate act. You may have stumbled upon a seldom considered possibility — suicide as adventure to overcome boredom…
Like Cynthia, I am very drawn to the last stanza. The internal rhyme of the first line of that stanza has a musical snap to it — and a captivating hugeness… very cool!
…rob
I like how this draws out the moment of impending disaster, and the sanguine and meditative voice. Both of these are antithetical to the act and increase the irony and the tension. The story also provides a variation on Joyce’s “A Painful Case,” here the couple remaining together in their [inadequate] romance.
I have been teaching for 18 years now. When one of our students commits suicide for any reason whatsover, our feelings can’t be described nor do the thoughts go way.
The words that play in our minds might not be same as you writehere but somehow this made an impact. The point is, I can’t even fathom that.
Thanks Gautami – I always appreciate your thoughts, and I’m especially thankful you commented on this subject.
Thanks David – I appreciate your feedback and read of this. Every time I approached the poem as a witness (or even as a stranger reading an article) it came across (I feel) as a mix between preachy and clueless. When I set out to rewrite it, the notion of writing from the perspective of one of the actors, much less after-the-fact, was almost accidental, but somehow allowed me to get closer to what I’m trying to say – I still don’t think I’ll ever be able to nail this piece.
Hello Dave,
I think we all have firm ideas about suicide that are hard to lose, so no wonder you found this difficult. Strange that we have two poems about train hits this week. Your last stanza seems in a way to redeem what the couple have done – try this thrilling experience.
Wow. This I would say is very well crafted and you described the whole sad scene and mindset very well. My favourite lines are:
“Let’s break the speed of light tonight. See what it’s like
drifting into stars.”
Awesome write! I enjoyed the read.
-Nicole
Thanks Derrick – I think it’s interesting that the last stanza came out at all. In previous drafts I was definitely looking for an escape. From the narrator’s perspective, the stanza almost reads like an escape from an escape. At what point do we stop escaping?
Thanks Nicole – I appreciate your thoughts on this.
Thanks Irene – looking forward to reading your railway piece.
Thanks DJ. Believe me – those early drafts went into a lot of stereotypical places. I’m glad I forgot about them.
I like Irene’s quote from you poem…it’s steeped in despair,drug addled and dark.I find it difficult and chilling to read poetry like this even though it addresses important issues It’s good that poets like you write about it.It’s very well written.I suspect your ancestor has a hand in the splendid drama you produce.
You always do such a good job with the dramatic monologue. You completely inhabit this narrator. Very strong work.
Dave, “an escape from an escape,” that’s exactly what the narrator is getting at here. Great work.
great job with a great headline…deadly for sure
This was good enough to capture and hold my attention this damp lazy day, which is really saying something. I love the last lines especially.
Thanks Sarah – I’m glad it captured your attention.
Thanks Wayne – I appreciate you saying.
Thanks Nathan.
Thanks Dana -
You’re too kind. The story, when I read it in the paper, did seem fairly Shakespearian to me.