That Kind of Happy

October Aubade If I slept too long, forgive me. A north wind quickened the window frames so the room pitched like a moving train and the pillow’s whiff of hickory and shaving soap conjured your body beside me. So I slept in the berth as the train chuffed on, unburdened by waking’s cold water, ignorant of pain, estrangement, hunger and       the crucial fuel the boiler burned   to keep the minutes’ pistons churning while I slept. Forgive me. That Kind of Happy ,