The city kept one trail of grace:
a station. For too long I knew
it tossed trains out of town each day;
like birds, caught countryside and flew.
I brought myself ‘longside the tracks
many a time before, in dreams,
but here in person I did stand,
and nothing real is as it seems.
My toes were poised on concrete edge
and reaching out t’wards humming trail
on which I knew the bird was trav’ling,
coming for my own avail.
And two oblivions were mine.
They stood a moment’s breath apart.
One came before the bird would do,
one came before again t’would start.
While both would end the city’s grasp –
dead streets that wrapped around my feet –
I stood uncertain even still
and contemplated which to meet.
The tunnel echoed promises.
The bird did come without delay.
Upon a breath, a choice was made
and I stepped in and flew away.
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