Robert Brown

The Train Ride after a Long Flight, Norway

Mountains and rocks

appear and disappear—

appearing and disappearing—

through the broken slats 

of a train tunnel

between Oslo

and Bergen. A glimpse

of orange sunlight 

on September snow,

Ansel Adams aspens.

After 30 hours of flights,

layovers, and airport food 

Laura tries and fails—

trying and failing—

to capture each image

on her cell phone:

A rooftop covered 

in weeds and a patch 

of wildflowers,

a waterfall carved out 

of an old avalanche.

Too much to take in,

even taken one-by-one

through the gaps in the slats.

A hermit who emerged

from a forest like this

after 25 years alone

said he couldn't look 

anyone in the face.

He preferred focusing

his gaze on a spot 

just over the shoulder.

"The face," he said, 

"has too much data.

You ever notice that?

I can't take it all in."

Laura drops her phone 

and hisses, "I hate these tunnels!"

"I hate them,"

and she inflates her neck pillow

to get her first sleep in 36 hours.

I haven't seen this glimpse

of her before. Not in 7 years

of marriage. I take this rare

view and add it to a list of wonders 

I never imagined before.

Robert Brown has never been a hobo, but he knows how to cook dinner in a tin can over a fire. He regrets not riding the rails and cutting people for looking at him askew.