No.80

Sleeping compartment 

Norman McCaig 1910-96

I don't like this, being carried sideways

through the night. I feel wrong and helpless - like

a timber broadside in a fast stream.

Such a way of moving my suit

that odd snake the sidewinder

in Arizona: but not me in Perthshire.

I feel at right angles to everything,

a crossgrain in existence. - It scrapes

the top of my head and my footsoles.

To forget outside is no help either -

then I become a blockage

in the long gut of the train.

I try to think I'm an Alice in Wonderland

mountaineer bivouacked

on a ledge five feet high.

It's no good. I go sidelong.

I rock sideways - I draw in my feet

To let Aviemore pass.

-o0o-