H TRAIN
by A. Griffin

---

Old redbird cars - perform the H Train shuttle service run,
their gleaming crimson paint reflects the blazing summer sun,
the sight from the front window is coincidental fun,
the driver's view, open to all
is the subway spotter's call.

And off they go,
from Rockaway Park's beachside railway yard,
they roar their motors,
making sure you know they're working hard,
on pleasant days
the causeway line
knows white foam, and water blue,
reminding crimson cars
of colors worn when they were new,
on the fairgound route they worked
far on the other side of Queens,
where the promise of Tomorrow
fired up the people's dreams.

Now they give rides to ocean birds with extra-clever means,
the seagulls on the roof, commuting from the beachside ocean,
and paying for their ride with polished, purple, seashell tokens.

And inside:
surfers, tanners, fishers,
with squirming bait inside their pails,
for them the redbirds take their trip
a dozen times a day,
the rails forever moist with salty ocean water spray,
the H Train rattles on, gleeful, spirited, and gay,
to and from the island village,
in the center of the bay.

---

This is the train my mom used to take me on when we wanted to go to 116th Street for shopping but didn't feel like walking.
It's part of the origin for my main moniker, Super Train Station H

The actual route still exists now, internally it's still called the H, but formally it's known as S for Shuttle, which already exists on other parts of the system, so they might as well give it its unique name back.

"H Train" also allows for some unique wordplay in the context of American Sign Language, but that's another story, and I'm not at all qualified to tell it.

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