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The tracks had rusted over,
The pain had crystalized in his veins.

The sun was still out, so I kept walking home.

His foot pressed down harder,
the clicking became more rapid.

I've been counting the minutes.
Testing my breaths.

click,
c l i c k,
c l i c k.

I kicked at the ground's empty.
Hid my shadow in the cracks.

click.

90 miles gaining,
he had a full tank of gas.

They asked why.

He was a completer.
Why not?

The ground seemed colder.
There weren't any clouds.

He was a piece of news that would disappear from our minds when something else hit the fan.
I flipped the page.

click,
c l i c k,
C l i c k.

flip.

90 miles traveled.
The clicking stopped.


I inhaled his fracture,
His empty column,
The smell of gasoline.

And pretended the glass didn't hit me.

He's a memory, not a person.

trains can't stop.





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