One old man and another, me,
Are the only ones bringing their lunch,
Saving money and getting better quality
Food and drink than served by Amtrak.
12:30 pm and the train stops at Richmond.
People wider than the isle waddle
Down to hot dogs, chips, big sodas and cookies.
I make observations one booth south of the server station.
Richmond to Petersburg observations:
86 visually obese; 6 not so.
Five of the latter are children
Along with one oriental teen.
Soon I will be paying for their
Heart attacks, diabetes, foot ulcers,
Colon cancer and kidney dialysis.
I guess I am already doing so.
They need to see our President,
Observe his wife and kids walk down this aisle.
They most likely would have brought
Their lunches with fruit, juices and maybe wine splits.
That one even has to stop to breathe;
I am reasonably sure that one just passed gas.
They spend way too much money
For a bunch of culinary crap.
At last, a tall skinny guy
Who looks like a basketball player,
Buys a beer and opens up his own lunch,
He eats sardines, a tomato and an apple.
An attractive black woman
With an orange blouse and orange shoes
Buys a cup of tea
And watches me chronicle.
A freight train blows by.
The Halloween woman shimmies,
The Basketball guy dunks a beer can;
Moon Pies wobble and waft out the head.
Girls, Guns & Hot Rods:
by Jami Beck