Ralph Mactell

An argyle sweater got off the train at South Station

And demanded “Streets of London”

So I played it again.

When I looked up at the end

Of the song, 

the man was smiling.

And I realized that he had written

The song I’d just sung for him.

So I just smiled back.

Tunnel Poem Number One

Remembering the Tunnel

In the tunnel I heard a voice calling out

Oh was it human

Or was it just a distant train

Wheels screeching on the rail

Full of people on their way someplace

While here I was

Already at the destination

Sitting on an old metal chair

With a flashlight and a hardhat

Eating a candybar

And otherwise watching 

The great and secret

Show

Finally, the voice grew closer

And there you were in your orange 

Vest and a hardhat of your own

Your legs deeply tanned

And under the orange vest

Your bright white cotton blouse

By the light of my headlamp

You looked like a vision

A strange vision I must admit

Even with the black dust

Smudge on your cheek.

For you I pulled up the other chair

I’ll never forget that you brought wine that night

Just to watch the trains with me.