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Everywhere He Sees Her-Fiction by Oliver Lodge
Vegas Phoenix-Fiction by Steve Prusky
Bad Burger-Fiction by Willie Smith
Death and Forsythia-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Eileen-Fiction by Ray Valent
Eleventh Frame-Fiction by Bruce Harris
Regarding the Destruction...-Fiction by Matthew Lyons
The Next Step-Fiction by Nicholas Manzolillo
What Men Show Whores-Fiction by M. E. Purfield
You Should've Called Me-Fiction by Carol Sojka
At the Zombie Five and Dime-Reprint by Kenneth James Crist
Cassie-Reprint by Frank Zafiro
Nice Life if You Don't Weaken-Reprint by Michelle Reale
Old Aunt Sin-Reprint by Gary Lovisi
Yellow Mama-Reprint by Cindy Rosmus
Bald Baby-Flash Fiction by Paul Beckman
Ruby-Flash Fiction by Liz McAdams
Widow's Might-Flash Fiction by M. C. Neuda
Saturday Night, Sunday Morning-Flash Fiction by Victor Clevenger
Sunday Evening-Flash Fiction by Victor Clevenger
Monday, Around Noontime-Flash Fiction by Victor Clevenger
The Woman on the Train-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
What Have Some of Us Become?-Poem by John D. Robinson
She Knows Something-Poem by John Lunar Richey
Harley Caress-Poem by Joe Balaz
The Unspoken Words-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
A Thunderstorm's Sideshow-Poem by David Spicer
Fruits, Vegetables, and Mindy's Topaz Eyes-Poem by David Spicer
Catherine-Poem by J.J.Campbell
Failures With Past Lovers-Poem by J.J.Campbell
Stomp-Poem by David Mac
Wilt?-Poem by David Mac
Carol of the Bells-Poem by Robert Beveridge
Eden-Poem by Robert Beveridge
Crazy, Crazy-Poem by Marc Carver
Love-Poem by Marc Carver
The Worst Poet in the World-Poem by Marc Carver
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens



by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal



I knew this woman.

Perhaps I met her on a train.

Maybe she was a passenger

traveling in the same direction

I was going.  Sometimes it was

cold outside and we talked about

the weather.  Sometimes it was hot

and we talked about the heat.

We talked about the trees and

the incessant noise of birds.

She talked about the flowers

in her garden and somehow

the conversation stopped.

The trains wheels screeched

and the scent of nicotine filled

the air.  The nights grew long

and the days grew heavy.

Many nights she would not be

on the train.  Many days I was

the lone passenger.  After a

thousand days and a thousand

nights, I saw the woman standing

on the platform.  She took a

different train and I was no longer

sure if I knew her.  She traveled

to different places and I remained

in the same town, always.

If she could only remember

who I was, perhaps the talks

we had of winter, she would

be a passenger on my train again.

We would talk like we always talked

about the injustice in our lives,

about the sadness of being alone,

holding back our tears.  Perhaps

the train would come to a screeching

halt and we would step out into the city

and have a drink. We would talk about

our youth when the blues were just

blue skies and we had the desire to live

lives not so frenetic.  We would look out

the window and shout out and laugh

as the train left the station for good.




Luis works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA. He was born in Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico. His first poetry book, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press. His next poetry publication will be out in 2016 from Kendra Steiner Editions.

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