David E. Walker
18 May 1995
Original Circa 1990

I stop my car at the crossing. I see no smoke from the stack but smell the burning oil. I hear the clickity-clack of the steel wheels on jointed rails. Suddenly, the train is before me. The whistle, shrill. I think my head will explode. I put my hands over my ears to subdue the scream. I look in horror at the sight before me.

The speeding train, what if it should jump the track? Faces pressed against the flying windows, mouths twisted into frozen screams of terror. Eyes wide with formless tears, searching for escape. Cars rocking side to side. Naked, greasy haired boys atop the train copulating with other boys, fists in the air screaming...Go! Go! Go!

Finally, the train is past. I sit frozen for a time, my hands falling limply from my ears into my lap. After a moment I step from my car and walk ahead, my mind trying to accept what I have seen. As I walk, I find no ballast, I find no tracks. I am standing in my own back yard.