racing home

the world is a swift

blur

as you sit on the train

speeding by

the wrecks of towns,

the abandoned

buildings

and Chevrolets,

the melted sheen

of lights,

how desperate it all

looks

in the rain.

but

you feel safe here,

going home.

happy that you don't

belong

there

and there, the chimneys

full of smoke.

the corner

crowds,

the stray dog heading

for the tracks

to some other side

of life.