Where to put your faith

Gold chain, lapping against the glass wall

My peripheral hearing

Grabs hold, like it were a freight train

Headed only for the mountains

And so I have subscribed

And so I may predict

Its next advances.


“De-chugga-de-chugga,” go the wheels

And I fit them into my three/four time

Tomorrow, I’ll choose a different one

Tomorrow, we shall syncopate

But along the track, I’ll spot a boulder

And my freight train will collide

Arching in the centre as an inchworm would.


I used to roll off and cry

Scorn the retched obstacle-

But I don’t ride the freight train anymore.

The End

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