We sit and,
though contemplating our demises morbidly,
we laugh and wait for trains to pass
as insects crawl and float
on predetermined paths
looking for something to eat in this
wonderland of gravel and
it’s like they put

That single hi-beam on,
we simply pretend we can hear one another
like we once (pretended) imagined we understood when Nietzsche said
“I love all those who are heavy drops,
falling one by one out of the dark cloud that hangs over men:
They herald the advent of lightning, and, as heralds, they perish”
And we didn’t see what was really told
about this reality and
what we are meant to have over and

Under us there are the tracks of countless service trucks
going to park near some rails
or headlight at the crossties
and the drivers are just like the people we discussed
all of them social and all of them
feeding on others’ self doubt and
hoping they are somehow someone
someway
better.

05/31/2005

Posted on 06/01/2005
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby