My life as a train

Of course I'm late

running behind
chasing down the required
and desired with equal amounts of futility.


I am at the control
I can admit to that much
although it is slick in my hands
and has a tendency to spin free

like the helm of a clipper ship
as it plows onto rocks
the huge spoked circle
comes alive
and throws me hence
in its final death throws

I'm watching the track
feed beneath
the steel struts
devoured by my
ceaseless life's insatiable
need to continue forward

The curve
comes as no surprise
a slight tilting to one side
leaning into me
a rocking of no comfort
just a disquieting jarred
passage
till I straighten out again.


And the stops along the way
I never notice
just blurred faces
indistinct places
rushing by
as I eat track
and rush to the end of the line.