- after the immortal Tull -
In the huffing, puffing, shuffling madness
of the locomotive breath
careens Old Charlie, the all-time loser,
flying headlong to his death.
He feels the piston a’scraping.
The whistle pours steam upon his frown.
Old Charlie, he stole the handle
and the train – no, it couldn’t slow down.
He watches as the children hurl themselves
at the stations one by one,
his woman and his best friend miles behind,
laying down and having fun.
See him crawling down the corridor,
petitioning on hands and knees
the angels he seizes as the silence howls
around his frenzied “Please!”
Charlie leafed back through Gideon’s book
to the Beginning, Chapter One.
But he couldn’t slow that old train down,
and the firmament snuffed the sun.
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