It was a king tide morning on a
beach south of Rio when the very
first train came out of the sea.
Isabel saw it from a swing in the
playground, and she told the
teacher, but no-one believed her
till the train reached the freeway
and the eight am rush.
A week later the football kicked off,
and the trains from the sea
were yesterday’s news—
same old carriages with
seaweed and molluscs,
same old tourists with
mouthfuls of sand.
They visited all of the usual
and Sugarloaf Mount,
where they peered out the windows,
left side or right side,
with cameras of coraline
to remember their day.
The trains came and went,
and in less than a month
the suspicious complaining
continues to final part 2, probably final part 2.