Train Poem

My train arrives on time during the month of January
In February, however, it's five cars short ---
wouldn't you know it.
In March, the same. Grin and uck it.
Five cars short in the height of July,
will make for sweaty claustrophobia, then.

In April, the train leaves homeward bound, 5 cars short,
a fat momma sitting snugly by my window,
A whopper and ten pounds of french fries on her lap,
Twelve more years of this before I retire at 69.
And that's a mighty "if"--- if I don't push till I'm 87.

Five cars short repeats in May
Cottonwoods late in blooming
It's getting hotter by the mile
Two more stops and it'll be 2012
Yep, you got that right, I am tripping!

Eleven more years to go,
and back to Tennessee,
mint juleps and hanging out with the boys
You're right ---
I ought to quit right now
while there's still time