there will be more

I grab the strap of the train,
riding
through this tunnel, it's gonna
be a bumpy
ride the conductor
says over the garbled
speaker, sounding much like
betty davis
when she hit her crazy
woman stride.
a job falls apart, you get
a dear john letter
in the mail.
someone wants a refund
for work undone.
there's a wet spot on
the ceiling.
it seems, as always, that
many things, good or bad,
happen at once.
I grab the strap and hold on.
I've been around this bend
before, and expect before
it's all over that times
like this, with rain and wind,
defeat and sorrow, well,
there will be more.