The Porter

The fresh suited man
Looked toward the
Old and tattered man
That was the porter.
He began talking
And asked his only
Question of the night:
“Porter, where does
This train go from
Here? Does it stop
In St. Louis or go
On down further
To New Orleans?
I need the ride to
St. Louis but a trip
To New Orleans
Might not be so bad.
I could get some
Decent Cajun food
Anyhow.” Then, the
Old porter’s eyes
Stared to swell as
He looked over his
Own tattered suit.
He pulled out his
Old, rusted pocket
Watch and gave it
A good once over.
A little ashamed, the
Porter just looked
Down and was still.
He was sad and was
Waiting to answer
Until he couldn’t
Cry. “I’m not sure,”
He said with a soft
But frowning smile,
“I don’t know where
This train goes from
Here, and I’m sorry
I can’t be more help.”