Every jump between gravel and steel
Clicks a morse code message
Like the cadence of words
Cartwheels from tongue to teeth
I stare at passing blues beneath windows,
Blending into ghosts
I stare at valley floors and mountain slopes,
Rising into grey
These train tracks remind me of hands
And every gap between fingers
Filled with loving knuckles
Bent like knees in prayer
Pleading to something inevitable,
A straight shot of hope.
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