His airplane landed
in Paris, France.
He hopped into a
taxi that took him
from the airport
to the train station.
Drifting across the
continent in a sleeper
car was the best way
he’d ever traveled
upon land, he
thought the next
morning. He’d
awoken in Köhn
where the train
had stopped just
long enough for
him to hop off
for a bit of
breakfast,
which consisted
of a nice, wet
omelet with
gruyère and
ground beef
decorated
robustly with
lots of potato,
after which he
swiftly returned
to his car on the
train where he
napped the rest
of the day away
dreaming
intermittently
of being on a
snake-like train
as seen from
way up high
that slithered its
way on a map
through endless
dots with long
names that no
matter how hard
he tried, he could
never pronounce.
