There Are No Trains From Mexico

[Mr-Tambourine-Man]

There Are No Trains from Mexico
By John Scott Holman


How often I wanted to get away;
My dreams drifted along on quiet wastelands of cigar ash and Joshua trees.
I thought my Freedom could be found in Mexico,
In smile/desperate senoritas and bargain shots of mescal.
Was I wrong?
I love the sounds of Mexico, though I hear them only in my sleep
– jangling hips, frying chicken, cobblestones and click and clack -
Then quiet villages, burnt out and forgotten, meet my waking eyes.
Even the crickets fall silent with the morning.
Something is wrong here.
Then I remember – but too late!
I gave away my passport!
I signed away my youth!
There are no trains from Mexico
And I am such a fool…
If I cast myself into the ocean,
I will surely drown or at least awaken;
Not that it matters…
My bones will rest in Mexico forever -
And train whistles will haunt my dead man’s dreams.