Train ride from Boston to NYC
Rain outside today. The speed of the train moves the hard raindrops into a blurry fog and mist over green and gold landscape of early spring, too fast for the trees to see me. Grafitti under bridges, swamp surfaces spiraling from raindrops. Abandoned truck cabs in pieces in someone’s back yard. Gold buds, pink buds, blue buds, green bloods. One neighborhood is a limited palet of brick and white painted houses, except for an occasional pale green, pale blue, pale pink, pale yellow house. One town has everything small, shed sized, as if we wouldn't notice the fairy world there. There was a miniature horse. As we travel further south, more tulip trees, azalea bushes, etc are in full bloom. An overturned row boat rests on a dock. Cypress trees are still naked. Cemetery by the lake has old stones yellowed like ancient teeth. More saleboats, one beautiful tall house with a wraparound porch. A birch tree. Another one. Another lake fogging up its shores with Victorian houses implied. Yellow shed with colorful buoys. Brown forests with luminous white birch trees. Orange yellow pipe on pale paste yellow warehouse. Green gray shale rock imbedded in the earth, upside down canoes, and picnic tables. Kate Bush sings adding a soundtrack in rhythm to the landscape, now red earth, giving me a desire to see the landscape she sees in England. Hockey green, ping pong green, silver lake painted white ships under white wraps. Hay near swing sets, railroad tracks next to another newer cemetery with an American flag 12 foot stick in the middle, I doubt the dead are nationalists now. Mist thickened, more small sheds, this time smaller than the last, no pretense at welcoming humans. These sheds had small windows exactly in the middle of one wall facing the lake and train route. The light shifts brighter so all colors are illuminated, pink and yellow cherry blossomed branches sway. A cemetery here and there, but also, building supplies warehouses live near the train tracks. Who said it could be so. Now we are next to the highway, with a Leontyne Price soundtrack singing Strauss. Strauss said you had to experience a broken heart before you could sing these last songs. I used to be in love with Leontyne with her larger than daily life voice all diva-like.
Saturn moves into Leo soon. There you go… Wow, a bus and car graveyard…all by another lake and the railroad tracks. Rusted metal graffitied fence and highway underpass grafittied. Crème thick fog and mist instead of far distance, but we have near distance.
Peaches follows Leontyne just in time for New Haven Conn. He’s not dead, He’s gonna live, he’s not really dead I see his eyes rolling back in his head…he is perfect for me…..to practice surgery…..when blood coagulates…. Great lyrics by Peaches.
For the chaos of new passengers, Mouth’s Cradle by Bjork is on, you can use those teeth up to the mouths cradle….with a choral of women’s and men’s voices up like the trees grow up. Suddenly everyone is on their phones or talking to their neighbor or child.
The trees are getting a steam cleaning it appears from here, more pink flowers against a yellow house this time. Mint green girders holding up part of a highway, we are away from polite new Englanders. Everyone is on their phones.
The beautiful fog, a Twilight Zone episode where the edge of the world ends right behind the fog. The boats on this lake in Westport are bone white. All of the lighting gives every car, building, house, and fence a bone veneer. The lone leafless birch tree is made of bone. East Norwalk station, everything still has a bone veneer. Made of bone, everything is finally clean, even the water treatment plant, even the lake and the church and the man inside the train with his white shirt carved of bone. The rocks on the ledge of the cliff are full of black wet brutally cut faces. I’m not seeing everything, but a bone house is reflected for a moment in another lake. A kid walks in front of his dad who tells the kid, Gitee-up! Gitee-up! Bone pipes lay flat against short bone buildings. The voices on cell phones nearby get more excited as we approach new york. Someone eats chocolate that smells loudly. Interesting layers of voices under my music…hearing voices that are not in their heads. Wet wood piles turned orange, the white is now less bone but more paper. Paste and paper. Messy back yards, neat yards, public or private. Not so private on the train route, Idol Oval graffiti and learn to Dive and aamco transmissions next to now under the bridge.
The buildings look like what they are made of, glass, and cement in Stamford. Everything cement, then pale mint green metal. Nice fairy landscape on the shelley. Mint green flowering trees next to cement and red striped building. Oh Old Greenwich. What does that mean, Greenwich? Magi told me Alewife means a fish. I asked her before. I ask her every time I see the word Alewife and ask again if this is a wife that brings, happily brings Ale?
Another lake, and all boats and other white things are bone again, passing Cos Cob station. Lots of antique gray, pink, beige and green authentic color Victorian houses. One with cast iron holding up a deck. No not possible. Not strong enough. A small brown storage house, next to the train tracks is also on cast iron stilts! Bread trucks and more small houses next to little houses next to larger people houses. I saw a very tall man last night and nodded at him conspiratorially, since I was writing about not fitting in by being too large or too small like the very little old lady I sat next to on the plane going north.
Faint green sprouts on these trees outside of Rye station as we glide past. The train trip is almost over. Numbers on the highway, we are above the highway with spring green trees budding outside of New Rochelle station. Soon nypenn station.