Capitol Corridor

The Capitol Corridor moves heavily through the dark,

crossing the thinly guarded streets, blaring, berating

impatient drivers waiting for flashing poles, sparking

their rage as they glare at watches. The ground shakes,

rolling earthquake, Cyclop's eye, headlight throbbing, crushing

bright straight rails, pounding diesel relentlessly hauling

into no-man's land, receding rails guarded only by brush

and grassy grade and two white wooden crosses, with a basketball

and a balloon for the lost children; caught in the sweep of flashing lights,

they first see the flash, then feel pain, and then blackness swallows them whole,

the suicide, the missed warning, the lost opportunity, the crying

mother searching deserted tracks. But tonight nobody's here, no

despairing child, drifting, desultory, home no longer an option; and so

undeterred, the silver and blue train rolls heavily on to Sacramento.

(Posted 12th May 2010 by Steven Federle)