Train Tracks

The window glass is cold against my skin, the vibration
rising from steel wheels, from lost memories, from times
before now, before then…before past sins…

 

From inside out.

 

Lights seem to sit on the ground, out there where the horizon
hides, where no one cries, where all is good and
my forehead resting window splits the darkness…

 

From inside out.

 

Towns whisper past, whisper amongst themselves, looking
all the while for the disembarked, the lost…
the good and the ones who spill…

 

From inside out.

 

The vibration slowly lightly softly…faintly begins to sing a
tune within tired ears, within the time it takes to
wonder silently; what happens when people open…

 

From inside out.

 

Two lines converge on hidden horizons, lights sitting
waiting patiently, watching nameless faces, foreheads
pressed against the future, thinking…

 

From inside out

 

Train tracks  carry the tune past whispering towns, past
sins and memories, past the good, the lost, the
disembarked and
from inside out…
past me.

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