 Old Age, Another Country by Ute Carson Scissors and Spackle Issue III, November 2011 I want to get off this fast train that makes no leisurely stops at quaint country stations to let me cross the tracks and ride back. I have packed the wrong books, my tailored suit pinches my waist, my ankles are swollen, and my hair is afrizzle from a nocturnal rumble through memories. I thought myself prepared. Loved ones assured me that this journey would be manageable. Now I sulk with a headache and the cold station sandwich sits in my stomach like a sack of wet grain. I try to adjust, use my jacket as a pillow, drink in the passing landscape with longing eyes, suppressing the urge to jump out and run light-footed across the blooming meadows with the sun tickling my nose. I feel confined but hope that when I reach my destination I will find something pleasant and familiar in a country I have no desire to visit.
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