my love drives away
enveloped
in the long howl of the locomotive, a stabbed animal
by the long knives of the setting sun.
my soul got abandoned in train stations.
you can find it in any waiting lounge
composing
my withdrawal
from being addicted to your touch.
over the sad windows of my gaze
the train carts fall
rhythmically,
abruptly,
as rusty, traveled shutters.
i’ll write you a phrase in chalk, the first rain
will erase it
from the asphalt of the platform.