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I can't help but look back: piles of rusted stakes
half-buried in the ground which gives after the melt.
The train cars are disconnected, paralyzed
on their tracks, empty but for cold. The train
is dangerous and sleepy. I listen for its two
appearances which fill my upstairs room:
the tired horns Of 5:oo P. m., hazy with downtown traffic
and the heartbreaking roar of its 1: 0 0 A.M....