The world shrinks back and fast
away from me.
My train seat faces the places
we’re leaving,
so each scape is half past before
it’s been seen.
Scraggly trees and parceled farms
all going going going—
gone,
lost in the
wispy mist of
departing distance.
As always, I snatch these
flitting instants while
lagging and lurching between
bustling stations.
pm poetry 