Ancient aunt

Blue eyes I've never meet, but knew,

an ancient aunt perhaps – kinder than

my mother – said: "you look like an actor." 

Mother, hellbent on filling my

life with her story, said: 

"my hair was wasted on a man."

My distant auntie goes on:

"You've got the stare of an empty parking lot filled with 

upturned push pins, just like a matinee idol in New Brunswick."

I tell her: "I've never been to New Brunswick." 

So we plan a trip by train, to feel

the clanking metal wheels on metal tracks

getting hundreds of miles to the gallon. 

I bring my family photos for entrainment. We’re

lost for hours, until we come across a young 

photo of my mother, she looks just like my traveling 

companion on a good day. 

I close the book, gently put into her lap.

I walk hurriedly to a door and jump from the train.