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Poem

On the Link
Track 1 West

Only once before
did the link train run this fast
on a late Sunday last year
I think in the middle of June

But when the train runs fast
these high seats are dumb witness 
to an unbroken rumble
and a high singing rail


We sail on ringing tides of steel
past grinder mills that shift  
their gravel to windward
and their dust from side to side

We slide and banter 
passed north south venues
passed streams of endless corner malls
perpindicular to their stalls

Every angling sunlit exposure
reflected in a flat dimming cast
I  can now see in my image 
looking back at me in the glass

We are racing into the west 
into a hole where the vast city
is awakened by the sound 
of the doppler shift in the horn

West on track one
soon to a tired yawning station
where the crossing lanes converge
quickly vanishing fast

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