One of the greatest banes of my life is my commute. I go from Ellicot City to DC and it takes me about an hour and forty-eight minutes. Often, the train will break down or the train will be late and so I’m texting my wife saying, Hey Jenny, I’m going to be late. And I really try not to complain about it. One night I got off the train and - I mean, this is a true story poem - I got off the train and there was a shooting star. I hadn’t seen a shooting star for decades - probably just because I wasn’t paying attention. So I was really excited because, you know, you get home from work and you want to have something to talk about and often I have kind of a sad sack story - the train shut down for an hour and a half. After I get off the train I drive to my house and I’m thinking about, Oh I can’t wait to tell Jenny this story and she meets me at the door - which is unusual.
“The Star Herald.”
The Sky was dark by late November when
I stepped off the train at Dorsey Station
to a small star shooting over the roof
of the Quiet Car. My Marc Train stories
tended to revolve around delays and breakdowns
so I couldn’t wait to tell your mother
something unexpected and cheerful,
like Orion waving for the check
from his high table. All the way on highway
100 I rehearsed. Whatever NPR was saying
I didn’t notice. Your mother met me at the door
and before I could speak she turned on the light.
“I’m pregnant.”
Excerpt of "Opening Credits" by Johnny Ripper from his album, Soundtrack for a Film That Doesn't Exist, found on the FreeMusicArchive.org and used courtesy of Creative Commons