On the Rails


Corroded to the earth until time runs out.

Who have these rails carried?

What heavy load have they tarried?

Meandering banisters made of virile stock.

Misshapen passages to a nowhere lot.


Wondrous monuments for a traveler’s vice.

Eternally the illusion of going somewhere.


Without thinking twice.


Freedom rolls by me with coal and steam on its breath.

Rarely planned or controlled.

Transcending the air…

Privilege rolls by.


And, leaves without a care.


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