The flash of urban <br />machine demonstrates <br /> persistence. <br />Rubber slithering <br /> on absorbing iron. <br />Interlocking harmonized echoes <br /> scan in electromagnetic <br /> trains. <br />Tracks dispersed across <br /> the spectrum <br /> <br />of nothing. <br /> <br />Spaces. <br /> <br />That is this country. <br /> <br />We who've been in residence here <br />know the <br /> detachment of our flag. <br /> <br />Walking shoes <br />of <br />walking men. <br /> <br />Back and forth, back and forth. <br /> <br />Sonar devices clamped like cancer <br /> to their ears. <br />Listening to private noises <br /> in the middle of a cluster. <br />We were thinking alike. <br />Hide in trains and <br />acclaim <br /> the vacuum <br /> of <br /> performing.<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trains-8/
