You can’t rely on the peace train,
always jumping the tracks
or taking the wrong one
stopping at the wrong stations
and bypassing the right ones
always arriving late or not at all.
Well, enough of that banal analogy.
Even Cat Stevens is off that jag now,
Should I change my name too,
change my appearance,
maybe some tinted contacts and a wig?
I’ll get on board as a forlorn salaryman,
riding the rails until I feel the rumble and steel everywhere I go,
getting jostled by manikins in my sleep,
drinking bitter coffee instead of the Chateau Latour I deserve,
longing for an escape pod to a 19th century  pastoral canvas,
or an express elevator to God,
who will smile knowingly and
speak to me in my own vernacular
and thank me
for infiltrating
and leaving the time bomb on
the commuter peace train.
There was no detonation,
but he knows it was an act of love.