You walked through the steam in a tight black dress
and boarded the Pullman car.
A shrill European whistle
gave the locomotive its raison d’etre.
Outside the station,
a streetlamp made slanting lines of rain visible
as far as the covered newsstand.
Tightening my trench coat, I haled a cab,
opening the back door
as the fin-like curb-splash
washed over the gray sidewalk.
At the apartment, I drank cheap scotch
and listened to Mahler’s last symphony
before sleeping on the mattress
where we had both created