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By Cheryl Heineman

The train’s cacophonic horns won’t quit.

An iron horse disturbs my sleep at night.

Nothing anybody can do about it.


I keep my windows open, and admit

my dreams are filled with dolorite.

The klaxons will not quit.


I can’t forget their hawkish spit—

saussurites, small–handed pigeonites.

Nothing anybody can do about it.


To women who parade their wit a bit

some men have never been contrite.

Loud howls behind the stage don’t quit.


The corner men on streets aren’t fit

to taste our tits.  We have no appetite.

Their poor demented yaps should quit.


We’ll make them eat their words, their boorish bit

those impolite, hedonite parasites.

Nothing anybody can do about it

The train’s cacophonic squeals must quit.


Cheryl Heineman graduated December, 2017 with a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from San Diego State University.  She also has a Master’s degree in Jungian Psychology and has published two collections of poetry, Just Getting Started and something to hold onto. She will be publishing a new collection of poetry in 2018 titled: It’s Easy to Kiss a Stranger on a Moving Train. She can be contacted at

The Clown

The Clown