Choo Choos, Parts 1-3

I.

The gentleman looked out the window,

eager to see the change in the Virginia countryside

with the Civil War over and the Union once more.

He occasionally looked down at his newspaper

to learn the latest developments in Washington

and gossip among the powerful and elite.

His wife would sometimes get his attention

and he would respond by speaking to her,

shaking or nodding his head.

All the while the choo choo kept blowing its whistle and belching its smoke

chugging its way south,

clickety-clacking down the tracks.

II.

Nearly 100 years later, a gentleman in a suit

asked another man in a pin-striped uniform,

“What’s your wife’s name, and what’s she like?” 

The baseball player known as Choo Choo responded,

“Her name is Mrs. Coleman — and she likes me, Bub.”

III.

The gentleman looked out the window, 

staring blankly at the old Virginia towns and landscape

after another contentious week in our United States.

He occasionally looked down at his phone

to read the latest newsfeed and tweets 

and gossip among the powerful and elite.

His girlfriend would sometimes get his attention

and he would respond by speaking to her,

shaking or nodding his head.

All the while the choo choo kept blowing its whistle and drinking its diesel 

chugging its way south,

clickety-clacking down the tracks.

copyright 2018, Charles A. Bruns

The Brighton Bar, the Movie Screening

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

And thus it was with the Brighton Bar movie screening.

“If you have a black ticket, you can come inside,”

said the lady from the historical association.

“Tickets? I didn’t know we needed tickets,”

responded the dozens waiting outside the screening room.

“If you want to see the second screening, take a green ticket,”

explained the lady from the historical association.

“Go to the Brighton Bar and have a drink while you wait.”

And around the corner walked some of the huddled masses.

But, the Brighton Bar was closed — its staff and patrons

had gone around the corner to see the documentary movie.

So back out in the cold walked the huddled masses 

to wait for the second screening of the movie.

“Shhhhh,” beckoned the lady from the historical association

as the huddled masses buzzed in anticipation outside the screening room.

But they didn’t need to stay quiet for long,

for a technical difficulty had delayed the first showing.

After an hour, the patrons from the first screening emerged

smiling, chatting, seemingly relieved at the experience.

And in marched the green ticket holders, smiling, chatting,

in anticipation of being entertained by the Brighton Bar movie.

The co-host from the library welcomed the patrons 

and invited them to enjoy soda and popcorn.

Then the lights dimmed, and the movie came alive

to the cheers of the second screening crowd.

The moviegoers roared as familiar faces appeared on the screen.

They cheered as footage from years gone by rekindled memories.

They booed when the video reminded them of unwelcome changes

and applauded when it all ended.

They filed out with smiles across their aging faces.

Some repaired to nearby watering holes,

others simply drove home.

But one walked around the corner to the Brighton Bar.

“Hi, I just saw the documentary and realized

I never bought one of your t-shirts,” he said,

pointing to the display of items for sale behind the bar.

“Do you have a men’s size medium?”

A moment passed as the bartender spoke to the owner.

“Actually, we’re out of them and don’t know 

when we’ll be getting some more,” he told the man.

“What do you want to drink?”

The man waved him off and walked out to head home.

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

Copyright 2018, Charles A. Bruns