Southward On

A train coughing carpingly

Out my window

Catches my ear

Past the road, beyond the trees

Lungs black as the coal catching a ride on its back

Down the dark tracks

To New Orleans

All the towns in between

Swallowed by the evening

The air filled with discontent

At least the train is going somewhere

Lights go out, one by one

Heads hit pillows to dream

The cucka chuk, cucka chuk

Crawls southward on

To find new ears

Night settles in

As the smoke imitates a cloud

Only to dissipate

Into an afterthought

Just like the train

On down the tracks