“Unlocking the Secrets of ‘Streams’: Marcos Reyna’s Journey Through Time and Memory”
V. Albuquerque, 2021
River and rail intersect like lattice work. Or like braids. They are connected. That’s what I’m trying to say. The world is a tapestry of metal and water. Or maybe I’m projecting pattern onto loss.
VI. Manchester-by-the-Sea, 2006
I met her on my way out of town. That first month, we stayed up manic with the moon, collapsing into the relief of finding oneself in another. After we married, we moved to the New England coast by a commuter rail station. If trains play music, the commuter rang the triangle—ding, ding, ding—as it carried passengers from Boston to Rockport. On weekends, we took the train to Singing Beach. We laid in the sand. We listened to waves.
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