I watched pensively for the right moment to take a photo –
the gateway to all trains, so much more profound than it seems.
When their train arrives at its designated gate,
passengers, lined up near the kiosk, in the Great Hall,
march single file, behind an Amtrak employee,
carrying a numbered placard on a pole, raised high like an ensign.
The procession, in all stateliness, speaks of a grand affair,
as if they are walking towards a greater destination.
I am patiently waiting for train #30 at 6:40 p.m.,
watching the time on my electronic device,
to make sure I can start moving closer to the place,
where I know the line will form for my train.
I was unable to get a seat on one of the
long wooden benches, closer to the kiosk,
where the official time, and news briefs
move across the digital screen.
Growing anxious for some unknown reason,
I get up to check the time on the kiosk –
panic, immediately sets in, for I had forgotten
to set my own digital clock ahead by one hour,
upon arriving in Chicago Union Station.
Too late, my intended procession already left;
and, the gate was closed. Destiny awaits.