Railway To Hell

The Gypsy jumped from car to car,

never getting off the train

 

In Davenport through morning fog,

the old town looked the same

 

The prairies waited in the dark,

the Rockies far beyond

 

In Denver’s wind he heard the words

to an oft-forgotten psalm

 

The engine roared, the distance called,

the rails went on and on

 

The desert lit the night on fire,

to burn the right from wrong

 

A Reno stop to take on water,

drowning in the past

 

Through farms and fields and countryside,

to Stockton now at last

 

His feet stepped down to touch the earth,

and genuflect once more

 

Before reboarding, headed East

—perdition his true lord

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

 

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