On A Train In France

I’m on a train in France hurtling past nuclear reactors.

They look like giant sculptures.

Their hips and waists are shaped like women.

They power all of Paris.

They power the lights of the Eiffel Tower,

the underground electric rails and the Champs-Élysées. 

I talk to myself while I sleep.

I try to decipher the signs but nothing is certain.

I voyage into the dark without words to guide me.

I’ve lost my passport. Who can I call?

Where can I go?

When will I wake?