There is no wrong side of the

river or the tracks; the sun and rain

blesses both side. Nickels and dimes

build into a wish. Lightening brightens

a dark road. A stray dog avoids strangers

and empty pockets. Trains own

their sound. At the end of the line it

coughs up the last of weary travelers.

A horn plays the heart of a song

without words. Sidewalks and buildings

once there, now empty lots, hold the

flat of nothing. Sleep breaks into morning

without regrets, leaving behind wrinkled

sheets and unfinished words. Leather

jackets and warm motorcycles ride long to

the next corner and the next.

Every city has a dream.

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