Dean Okamura

Dream in the city of Camagüey, Cuba, 2017

[1]

Sitting on a train.
Conversation like rain.
Car stretching, contracting.
We pass the same stops in the same order.

 

We are moving, repeating.
The familiar routine.
The repeating meeting.

 

Same faces changing places.
Repeat, again.
Nice to see you, again.

 

Up the hill.
Down the hill.
Dining car.
Well-worn menu.

 

The usual, por favor.
Back to my seat.
Sitting on a train.

 

We pass the same stops in the same order, but
this time, we get off at a station.
Fog cloaks the platform, and …
she smiles.

Our phones show
*** No Service ***
no city maps,
no guide apps,
we're on our own.

 

We hear distant music.
Música tropical,
Quizás, Quizás, Quizás …

 

What does Quizás mean? – she asks.

 

I answer – Quizás means maybe.

 

We sing the words
in Spanish or fake it.
With each note,
the city lights get brighter.

 

There is a table with a drawer.
Inside is a piece of paper.
It has a list of activities and a map.
We look at each other,
surprised that we can explore
a world outside the train.

 

Should we get on the train? – I ask.

 

She answers – No, I always wanted to do something different.

 

I agree – Me, too.

 

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[1] Advent, Martha Jimenez, 2016.