a train steaming-
droplets of may rain crashing against
my face-
5:00 wind blowing hard enough that i have
to squint-
the sky, a bright shade of dark,
with thick, tufted clouds perched like old
men at a park-
my mind, drifting and swirling like water
exiting a sink-
the train steams forward-
or is it backward?
the 5:00 wind, now at 6, is heaving its breath
at the trees now-
heavy bouts of exhalation
mixed with flecks of mist-
i step out onto the tracks,
and watch as the train steams-
the 6:30 wind hurling smoke into the air
like a twisting tornado-
droplets of may rain crash against my face-
and i squint under the force of the wind-
the sky is a brilliant shade of dark-
but the clouds are moving-
i stand my ground and stare
knowing that something great is inside of
knowing that something powerful is screaming
to be released-
knowing that that forces around me lay right
on my tongue,
and rest in my heart-
i look into the mirror-
and the train stops*

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