sam stays staring
waiting up for the
train. to run over
the nickels she put
on the tracks.

for a santa fe frieght
to glide across a sorrow
slicked track
and georges head as
he screams and shouts
to a waning moon.
it lights the clouds
that hang around
and pouts down cold
at sam.
she closes her
eyes and basks in
the chill.
and i see her from
the road i'm walking on.
moonlight drenching her frowning
cheeks as i take her
nickels from the
track and walk along
the ties ignorant of any
coming train.