Leaving New York at Dusk

     fleeing the island with artificial edges
invisible grime on unsuspecting faces
villain-faced men in suits with their heads
hanging to one side as if they held
so much, they could not be kept upright
outside the window the dirty little
steel train, a single metal track, rusty
lies between two others, two that are
usable and shine in the coldly burning
twilight, an anomaly
ignored and rejected it may be, though
at least it does not have heavy trains filled
with passing blips of human beings grating
over it, like the fangs of a lion scraping the
bone of its prey, stripping it of sustenance
and sliding it on the ground, exposed