Walking Trains

Posted by Erik Moshe on Thursday, March 20, 2014 Under: Poetry


Walking trains
is a bit like walking a ubiquitous dog
you hope it won’t defecate in the middle of the street
you know
its lack of drive is why it’s always sleeping at home
out of doggie toys, feline companions
out of the “drive” - the source of true functionality
tugging at your leash is a printer tray, carrying
at least 60 passengers, and tons of manufactured steel
its knuckles drag through the city’s battery grid

If you let go of the leash, it would probably
cruise all the way to Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves
counting on them to hijack it, or fill it with jewels
freeing it from the house arrest
it was born into, somewhere in the Los Angeles anti-vegetation
complements of the national railway commission

Walking trains
can be counterproductive to a wholesome life,
like watering alien plants in a parallel universe
while simultaneously
riding a unicycle in zero gravity
“Look, Mr. Mechanic… no hands.”

Crawling up, this cement caterpillar croaks
the furry capillaries of Chicago are cloaked in rosemary mist
spark plugs gulp, pistons lurch, electronic tinsels
make headway, the front lights glow like Moulin Rouge flies
if it weren’t so gray now in the lower level substrata
it’d feel like dancing, I’m sure
Walking trains is ultimately pointless
but constitutes an attempt to catch up to machines
we relentlessly surge it with volts each day
hoping one day, it will emulate our walk
consume our food, and bring order to our static society
autonomously and with humble devotion
I walk trains because they need moral backbone
and well - who else is going to do it?

In : Poetry 



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