Yo i found myself sitting on the platform today. and the usual freight came flying by. first it was the echoing of the tracks. then the actual diesel flying by at 45. and i watched the many many cars following in processional order. it was amazing. the sound they made. loud. very loud. clicking loud. screeching loud. squeaking loud. never letting go. always holding. they flew by so fast. and the diesel could be heard, about 500 feet after passing, wailing.
i sat on the blue bench hoping no one would catch me rocking. and it wailed again. hard. and i rocked. and the cars screeched. and the sun was slipping behind walbrook junction and penn-north and pussy ass light rails pulled up with ‘finished service’ marquees and just like a tired tired raconteur,
the train wailed. wailed. and wailed some more. til it was whispering. but that’s silly, can’t no diesel whisper. but it was so far off, it was like a missed message struggling to catch up. and those cars, in greens and browns, old and rugged, they ain’t have no pride. just humility and purpose. and they clickety clacked and screamed they sopranos bur den some ly back behind remington.
then i slow strolled up to the house.