Whispers climb down my back
Shattered moonlight fall toward the ground
Resting smoothly onto delicate feet
Broken glass etching edges

The train comes roaring to a stop
Empty seats tremble in milky white existence
Bright lights stumble across the black air
Flowing perfectly into pupil gloom

Swinging his old battered bat etched with memories
Babe Ruth jumps off the train
Arms across Jackie Robinson
Son with son, player with player

John Kennedy sits next to me
Warding off rusty bullets with a slay of hand
Wet palm clasped on Jackie’s red dress
Frozen smile sewed on tight

In the musty shadows bellowing out
Al Capone deals cards with American beauties
Waiting for his next stop to Alcatraz
Rocky seas by the dying light

Hidden away in a pocketed corner
Elvis clutches his microphone with all his might
Desperately dissolving into rock and roll
Tears rolling down

As the grandfather clock strikes 12
I sink into the station bench
Listening to the deafening silence echoing
Circling and circling