He listened to trains all night. Coming and going. Wondering where they were heading to. Out East or West. Maybe to Canada; Saskatchewan, Vancouver, or Alberta, Montreal.

He dreamt of jumping on board. An empty car just for him. One with no graffiti on it. Get inside and sleep, dream of new land. Waking up in Santa Fe or Seattle. Maybe New York or Baltimore. Perhaps South; Nashville or Dallas. He was itching to go.

When he was young, trains were easy to catch. Jump on them in the middle of the night in towns like Joplin, Carthage, Wichita Falls, or Denver. He remembered getting off in Chicago and finding work. He also thought of New Orleans, where he found the bottle.

Off and on booze. Jumping from job to job, town to town. Women in bars that he gazed at from a distance. Whores in back alleys who he became better acquainted with.

Diner food at three in the morning. Bowls of chili in Oklahoma City. Tamales in Tulsa. Chicken fried steak on the menus throughout Texas. Never having enough.

And he listened to the trains coming and going. While he stayed in one spot and dreamed. Those days were over.