Northbound train
materializing out of the fog
erased back into it

this is the time of watchmen
the time of switchmen
the time of drawbridge operators

patrolling the edges of the no-scape
the noise of interstate traffic echoing off downtown buildings

pushed up against the river, against erasure

against

living at the edge of visibility

hoping where a foot is planted is solid
and not one more dream of a new lunar year