Caught up in a single motion from pane to pane,
the view changed as they passed from peak to peak.
See them waving to us – the people on the train,
who’ve already witnessed the things of which we speak.
And history grows all hale and hirsute.
The senses are free to wander around the house,
the eye involved in its continual pursuit
of events like a cat chasing a mouse,
no longer monitored by the retiring ear,
itself not so sharp as when things were powered by steam.
We were here, they were there. Or were they here?
A question that highlights how faded we all seem –
like a chorus ending a long-forgotten show
which marks the real limits of what we know.
The train has not come in. It was only a dream.
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