Mindy Gill

Mindy Gill

The Overnight Train

On the overnight train you do not sleep. Steel trolleys gimbal down the hallway, and the English couple bunked below sink cold cans of beer, hiding their jealousies badly. That month, so many rooms by the sea. Green coconuts, and sweetness. Silence on the balconies. Now a small window, two dim reading lights. Tomorrow, a mountain house above the paddies, where we will sit and watch the stars ice over, our hands touching occasionally, having not yet come to the end. The town lights flaring out. Young muscular dogs prowling the streets.