Trains

by Peter Finch

I gave up playing trains when I fell
in love with Veronica, raven haired
dancer. I advertised my Trix in Exchange
and Mart Swop For Record Player got some
bastard from East Anglia sending me an
electric 78 machine with a bunch of
10″ discs by Edmundo Ros. I tried
to make it spin my vinyl Yardbirds
put paperclips in the gyro blew
the mains got nothing but burning.

Veronica didn’t care for failure I
didn’t tell her. She left the
hope I sent her unread in the bushes.

My trains went round their perfect circles
in flat East Anglia. Turn the switch and they
spin. They never dance.
Trains don’t have to.