Plexiglass Train

A glass separates us from the world outside. Which side of the glass is outside?

We travel through the dark--
in a train made of glass--
a clear shell gliding through
a ruined world.

Outside, the city sleeps in shadow--
sealed off from its own contagion.
Now it’s a tourist route--
a safe way to witness decay.

The ticket promised:
You may look, you will not touch.
But the dark is pressure.
Faces lean toward the windows--
drawn to the movement of the lost.

The glass feels thinner
each time something stirs outside.
The spectacle fades--
curiosity replaced by caution.
We retreat down the narrow aisle--
away from the windows--
into the metal quiet.

The lavatory compartment--
a small, tiled space--
is our shelter.
Dim light flickers across the cold walls.

We whisper as if the dead can hear.
My eyes seek comfort in the drain--
but the gaze outside is constant now--
no longer spectacle, but inspection.

I came to watch the monsters--
touring their world--
now, they are watching me.

Then the melody begins--
a chime for orderly transit--
now a signal to look closer at the threat.

The train moves again--
and I catch my reflection--
half witness--
half apparition--
unsure which side of the glass
I belong to.

Reviews

[LH Weiss]

The setting is perfectly eerie. My imagination goes on such an adventure picturing these city ruins that are so off-putting yet captivating. Great poem.

[RomaJ]

This is such a wonderful compliment coming from an amazing storyteller like yourself. I’m glad you found the setting eerie -- the poem was inspired by a dream I had and my reflection on it. It definitely had that eerie vibe! Thank you, I really appreciate your thoughts.

[Christine]

I can understand this view of life. Always watching in a virtual world, playing at life, instead of really living......

[RomaJ]

That's a powerful way to put it, Christine.

​I definitely think the poem taps into that feeling of watching life virtually, as if there’s a screen between us and reality.
I appreciate you focusing on that theme of "playing at life" rather than truly living it...
Thanks so much for sharing your insightful take!

[Betty Hermelee]

I believe the train is just a representation of how we perceive life...our own individual notions of how this life is affecting us in our everyday world....are we in looking out? or are we out looking in? what you describe is a somber mood.... a painting unique to each of us... a beautifully written piece...with true emotion...
Warmly, B

[RomaJ]

I love how you connected the Plexiglass Train to our individual perception of life. By seeing the train as a representation of how we individually filter and perceive life. That question of "are we in looking out? or are we out looking in?" is the core dilemma of the whole piece.

​Thanks for sharing your thoughtful, beautiful read of the poem!

[Betty Hermelee]

My pleasure, a beautiful piece!
Warmly, B

[Thomas W Case]

Beautiful imagery. You bring this to life.

[RomaJ]

Thomas, Thank you. I appreciate your thoughts

[John the Baptist]

An interesting perception of life on this physical plane here. We are all on our plexiglass trains, looking out at what transpires outside the glass, and a lot of it is not pleasant. We can always retreat to the lavatory to spare ourselves the sight of the monsters without, but that doesn't make them go away. When we look at the glass, we can't be sure if part of us is not on the outside. It is this uncertainty with which we must live in this place.

[RomaJ]

Thank you for such a thoughtful reading. I particularly appreciate how you framed that final uncertainty--that 'part of us is not on the outside'--as something we must live with. When I was writing, the device screen became a powerful modern layer to that glass.

We’re literally looking through glass at the 'monsters' (the chaos, the ruin) of the world, and that moment of catching our reflection is the moment the screen turns the gaze back on us, forcing us to wonder if we're part of the problem we're just passively watching.

[ShadesofV]

Roma, Here's another review, since you felt I gave a way the "spoilers"

This poem turns observation into self-confrontation. The glass that once promised safety becomes a mirror. Its metaphor asks whether detachment from a broken world protects us or only reveals our complicity in its ruin. We begin as spectators and end as the spectacle.

[RomaJ]

this is an excellent analysis, and you've perfectly articulated the poem's core shift. You are spot on: the question of whether detachment 'reveals our complicity' is exactly the discomfort the poem is trying to generate. When the passenger catches that reflection, the glass stops being a mere window onto the 'ruined world' and becomes an indictment of the observer's privilege. Thank you for reading it so closely!

[Soren]

A metaphor for our conscious and unconscious the conscious inside the train appears as our mind and eyes our unconscious outside beyond the glass. We are one but appear two a split that creates unawareness and dim visons promoting questions of what lies beyond. A lovely write

[bubbafreesnake]

This is a wonderful poem. I'm probably wrong, but I imagine that the writer riding the train into the future had returned in some ways psychologically to the world that existed before they could crawl. Where they didn't completely differentiate what wasn't them from themself.

[RomaJ]

Thank you for sharing your interpretation. I hadn't explicitly considered the pre-differentiated self in the Freudian/psychological sense, but it perfectly explains the poem's core anxiety! You're exactly right. The passenger's uncertainty about the glass feels like a regression to a state where the 'outside' (the world, the other) and the 'inside' (the self) have fused. The terror isn't just about danger; it's the loss of the secure boundary of self.

[RomaJ]

For Soren's review: I love this reading, Soren. The metaphor for the conscious and unconscious mind-- our inner split --is perfect. The 'dim visions' and 'unawareness' you mention are exactly what keep the passenger safe until the very end. The ultimate confrontation, then, is that final reflection: seeing the self divided ('half witness/half apparition') is the moment the conscious mind can no longer maintain the illusion of separation from the terrifying, shadowed reality of the unconscious. A great contribution to the interpretation.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I felt this last November when I took Amtrack to Cooperstown, NY...23 hours of riding along looking out the window wondering what people on the other side were doing...what their lives are like...if they wonder about us on that train.
j.

[RomaJ]

I do the same thing. Whether I'm a passenger, or even just passing by in a car... letting the scenery and homes slip by, thinking about the stories that unfold behind each window.

I love how your train ride mirrors the feeling in the poem. The quiet reflection between observing and being observed. Watching the world pass by from a distance, wondering about the lives on the other side, feels almost like stepping through a transparent pane. Lovely thoughts, j. Thank you

[red93]

Into the Dream World again Roma, where surrealism meets magical realism - and indeed there is also something very filmic about this Piece. Questions are posited, but remain unanswered. Fabulous imaging and exploration of the theme. Really Excellent ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

[RomaJ]

I like leaving the questions unanswered; it mirrors the way dreams unfold and the tension between curiosity and uncertainty. Your words really make me see the poem in a fresh light. Thank you Red. I appreciate your insight.