Jump that train. Hold tight. Never worrying
about which way it’s going, just getting
on and going, feeling the hair lifting and
wind from prairie towns brushing my eyes
while passing quiet towns and barking dogs
where streets blend into the same, with maybe
a few alike, but all the same encouraging
me to take the road out of there for someplace else.
My strangers face and empty pockets makes
a nervous town suspicious. I dust it off and
follow the shoulder of a new path where
rails run straight, right to my next place of chance.
Roger Singer 