I hear the train a-comin

22 Jan

The train is here, belching out her black smoke in a great big plume, coming in from the horizon on her big straight rails that go on and on forever, past the green and tan land, the train is here.
This train is bringing a whole bunch of words, screaming them with her shrill whistle. She says I can always do more, that I’m a half-ass, that I don’t think enough, that sooner or later everybody will realize that I don’t know anything, that I’m pretty much clueless. This train screams and screams and the smoke fills up the small spaces, the old lady doing the dishes coughs into a laced handkerchief as the train passes her window. And shouldSHOULDshouldSHOULDshouldSHOULD on comes the train rolling through.

I try to think about other things, but I can’t. I should spend my time more wisely, I should be bigger and better, I should be able to socialize and pull in the people to get me to move forward, I should know more.

This train is NOT bound for glory, not this train, just flying through like a bullet, flying through with her black stain in the sky, not to be ignored, not to be missed.

I am looking at her right now, trying to figure her out. Standing on the tracks watching her approach. What will she do? What will she say?

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