He shoves me into a compartment with six men. Then he leaves. The train snakes out on steel rails, clatters past ramshackle buildings where laundry sags on lines across filthy alleys. I swelter in the heat of the compartment, watch the blur of dusty fields and dingy towns, past lonely station platforms where nameless faces watch. The sad train passes.
Weary passengers tumble out into the humid night.
I am left in the empty compartment. The train groans, shuffles. He insists we share, entertains with impressions of famous comedians, impromptu vocal renditions, pantomimes, sound effects of rock stars. This young Italian soldier learned English in a nursery school in Toronto. Writes our initials on the compartment wall.