Chiasso Train Station

The Chiasso train station
is empty, at 5:30 on a Sunday
in late September. I walked
from Switzerland to Italy and
the passport desk was empty.
But when a boy in a red pleather
Thriller jacket followed me, a guard
appeared to smoke pointedly between
us until we had a new chaperone.
I was grateful and curious, as usual.
The clouds and mountains hang back
with the Swiss francs, I wait in smoke and soot
for the 6:10 to Como. The guards tease each other;
machine guns must be unnecessary
accessories in Chiasso
on a Sunday in late September.