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  • Where are we going?

    What do we want?

    Is it out the window in motion is it in the scrabble boneset margins the wild dry orchids the orange dumpster scraps heaven to butterflies in their train track ooze nectar as commuters sally on or

    Is it round that old train track bend round the lake when you see open water and the soothing of the rockabye train trip tells you whether the train is on time or not it might not be too late

    Here we are with the gentle hordes craning our necks to see the train departures, dreaming of small ship-shape compartments, close eats, close trays eyes wandering to far off villages suburbs exurbia in the quiet private elegance of train motion

    A kind of hope

    A kind of ecstasis out of our static states

    into lilts and momentary dreams

    Even the schedule times are like numeric poetry...say me the magic amulet of 17:30

    (Photo by Susan, Union Station, Toronto, May 24, 2016)
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