I used to collect weird newspaper headlines and stories. One of them inspired the poem below.

 

"Escaped Patients Killed by Train"

was the headline

that would have everyone believe

in irony as flesh:

hot-blooded and glamorous,

gorgeous and deadly;

always poised perfectly

to strike.

 

On the other hand,

may I point out

that the story itself

tells a different tale:

how the two women

"had walked out of the mental health unit

unnoticed

even though the two-story facility was locked,

and lay down

in front of a freight train

that struck and killed them."

 

Irony,

in this case,

not hot-blooded at all,

but actually a bit clammy

and somewhat annoyed

at having to crouch patiently

under bridges

and wait for victims.

 

The Train,

in this particular case,

entirely free

from any real guilt,

just in the wrong place at the wrong time—

yet, to the women,

wholeheartedly right

on schedule.