Something poetic there is about train tracks.
Something about the patience in the steady
parallelism; of the ablated shale and gravel lying
along the theoretical space between the tracks--
Something sad, like the existential green weed
defying the winter to challenge the grayness
between the outflung stations of the world.
Something joyous there is about the sudden curves
away from the endless straightness; the junction
Boxes sentrying the spaces between towns:
Something huge and furious there is
that rages through the untiring trains
and the souls racing toward their final end.