—I DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING

 

Die Harder

 

I fell in love with a steam train because it smelled like you—oily, somewhat loose, yet determined. I road it all the way to Lancaster, window seat, jaw-to-jaw with the glass, staring at the landscape flashing by like a life lived too fast.

In the reflection, I saw us young again, your curls and skateboard dimples, smiling as if you wanted to be hugged or merely tucked in. I watched the bouquet tremble behind my back as your father sized me up, not knowing there was already something growing inside you that that we’d made beforehand.

Prior to stopping, the whistle blew an alert, but I was already gone by then, holding onto the rails like John McClane.

I died, then died harder, remembering you and us, how close we were to Heaven.