Drexel Train Repousse

There is a train at 4 am
That hammers its way
Through the Drexel countryside,
Pounding steel tracks
With carloads of coal
Bound for LaCygnes
And fires hotter than hell,

In the valley of the dead
Bones lie scattered
Waiting for some modern Ezekiel
To reconstitute them into their former selves,
And the train rolls on
Forging different realities
On its one-way track
Through the methamphetamine jungle,
Beating out its own existence
Amidst the backdrop
Of the town now in despair
Over its new-found and unwanted reputation
Afraid that some pale rider will paint the town red,

The local tinsmith doesn’t look up
As he beats a tattoo on the sheet metal table,
“That fellow brought in a brand new trumpet
And wanted me to dent it all up with my ball-peen hammer,
We don’t know what happened out there,
Mebbe the train drove him crazy.”