The local train blares by
to cause alarm
although familiar, futility gains strength with steam.
With this new engineer at the helm from the rear
he calls *Attention* to his pressures and passages
as though he
the town crier knew the time
anymore.
This whine is the bell vibrating raw gravity-
hard to see
coming straight, near, far, coming, going...
All the rest is color coded for us,
lights and trigger switches
are on the outside, green and red, black and blue
Stop and Go for Simons followers.
The straight path, as the crow flies,
is soft and well worn, even in the sky
drawing diameters
in his radii, he is right on a smooth track.
To make it back home for dinner, meatloaf.
To rely on regular things such as
weak forces, sympathy and cacophonies.
Painting by Frits Thaulow, The train is arriving (1881) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
