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Thursday, January 12, 2012

I Race a Train

I Race a Train

I race a train to erase the day
tough graffiti, I tap my foot to the chuga-chuga,

count each day unsolved like the box cars,
which are full of the lumber

we used to call trees.
I race clouds in canals next to the harbor,

watch seabirds watch
frigatebirds dive into toxic tides.

I race rows and rows of lettuce,
Lettuce rises like a choir of voices: steam

above each head, sound
is drowned

by the thwack-thwack of a helicopter rotor
hiss and spray over the fields,

I cannot outrace this fog
of filth,

and try not to breathe as I enter my house.
Outside my window

a valley of wind and lettuce
in a sea of earth. 

Off in the distance
a helicopter

no bigger than a spoon is headed toward my table.

Photo Credit: Stewart Ferebee