Fading to dreams via the rattle of hatches unbattened and the whistle of distressed trains taking people to the city under duress.
I saw the birds flock to the scarecrow
And the cooling tower fall in an ocean of blue and neither scene excluded you.
Rattles of tracks wafted near the seashell shore.
Mines turned to toys in twisting tongues
And people in suits buried guns in the radio run, tuned to wind in the backdraft
And impoverished people rose as one in a velvet backlash.
Next morning, I flicked a switch
And watched the world burn in a 32-inch whirl and I tried to recall a rapidly fading dream about something vague.
I brushed my teeth, grabbed my coat and caught my train.
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