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BURGAU TO ULM, BUNDESLAND BAVARIATwo foxes hefted the remains of a pigeon,within the shadow of an onion-domed steeple,and from the train’s window, watching: you, me, no one,mooning the winter through, wishing work to be done,holding out for bits of money like most people—like a fox hefting the remains of a pigeonthat had landed to rest its wings and lost everyone.We’re there now, holding the scene, an examplein our heads, a window through which you, me, no one,can view your childhood home, the thin, scrambled sun,and the sickness that drives you to sleep. Our couple—as two foxes heft the remains of a pigeon,dragging and chomping bits of bird to fill their own,the world just darker, colder—rest a littlewithin the train’s window. There’s you, me, and no one,all failing to arrive on time at the station,our lives framed against the February chill,where two foxes heft the remains of a pigeonwhile watching, as a train passes, you, me: no one.
From Paralogues (2012) by Evan Jones.