Late at night while lying
In bed I hear the plaintive
Sounds of train whistles
In the distance. They come
To railroad crossings and
Blow their horns or whistles,
Whatever you want to call
It. Lives have probably been
Saved by those loud jarring
Horns reminding people
Not to try to get across the
Tracks before the train gets
There.
Tag: smoking
Glass Bridge
A glass bridge across
the back of a smoking snake
Invites, boys and girls, like a
deep fried radar antenna
toward a sudden realization
you have to play it by ear