Photo: Creative Commons
the sleeping railway
a thin configuration line giving shape to the rolling plains
otherwise blended together with blankets of wild grasses
the Rockies in the distance split the cloud lines
where the rains from the day fall onto peaks
into valleys
into rivers
that shape the plains
until they evaporate back into the sky
repeating over milennia
I wander the afternoon
the heat of the rail under my feet
the smell of soft leather from my sandals
balances in the shimmering air
air moving as radiant curtains of heat
that envelop my summer thoughts
in the slumber of my long summer vacation
I’ve wandered from my uncle’s house
on the edge of a town of two hundred people
a town whose thread is snagged on a rivet of time
that keeps a bell ringing on the door of a lone market
that keeps the vending machine at the solitary gas station full of ice-cold bottles of Orange Crush
that keeps the grazing smell of manure from dissipating
grasshoppers avoid my balancing act
and halt their chirping
when I skip off the rail
the gravel beneath my feet
crunches under my weight
the time between trains is the amplified silent matter of summer in a small town
when minutes blend with warm breezes
a context punctuated now and then by another train
when the town raises its brow with suspicion
that it brings something new
people
gadgets
secrets
change
I oscillate on the rail
looking ahead of me
then behind
nothing on the vast plain defines the point at which I stand
except the lazy present
I’m still a child too impatient for definitions
I close my eyes and imagine a horn
followed by subtle vibrations under my soles
I anticipate the direction to take
one that takes me further down the tracks
away from the securities of a town fixed in time
toward an oncoming imaginary train
when I open my eyes
I no longer see the rail as something else
the rail is a rail
the rail will be a rail
honest wind, honest town, honest grasshopper
are you to blame for the end of my summer
it wasn’t but a minute ago that you were undefined
adrift on the Colorado plain
still alone
my time on the rail is short knowing that soon an unimaginable train will come
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