if it’s still called that

and the world around me was like

a drowsy clerk’s office where one rheumy

intern made jokes and the other

kept interrupting my stories with stories

about his own childhood which was

far sadder than mine and had taken

a long time to reach us so full

of banquets, sirens and retractions

that we stopped to play cards for a time

by the service entrance with a view

and when he continued he spoke plainly

of several hundred years of pain, toolsheds

and drifting snow and the other intern,

a halfwit, and I huddled closer

and from the small bits of his story

we imagined the girlfriends and snowmen he once knew

and the moon lodged above a notebook

unable to breathe as a stranger

entered an emptying station

and cut his initials swiftly into a bench.