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Check your watch
count the steps
the long haul scheduled flawlessly
every stop on time.

Markets, financials, all aligned
negotiation, legislation, sealed and signed
tracks run straight and true
but this train
the train we ride
hurtles down the line.

Blind the brakeman,
mute the conductor,
the driver, hat tipped back,
leans on the throttle
singing, my country ’tis of thee
carelessly
living the tragedy of wait and see.

When all is written,
will they say
there was no other way?

The addict sees a single track,
manifest destiny’s siren call,
The end is never so clear
as when it simply had to be.

On either side of the rails
stretching to infinity
possibility
from sea to shining sea;
behind, all that might have been,
ahead, what might yet be.

But the station master checks his watch
listens for the whistle
nods and smiles
“Train’s runnin’ right on time.
can’t nothin’ hold her back.”

When getting to the end is all that matters,
and cost is counted up in steel and coal
and almighty dollars
no one heeds the wild’s call
no one questions, no one at all.
Progress uber alles, baby.
This train,
this train we ride,
train to greatness and to glory.
Don’t she go,
don’t she just eat up that track.

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Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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