1:45 by Trevor Bernard

The dark figure of the majestic beast

slowly pulls itself into my view,

four strong legs propelling it forward,

barely visible but for the light cast from the

7/11 in the background, burning away the night sky,

while being gently greeted by the smoke of a cigarette.

Puffing away like the choo-choo in my mind,

ferrying thoughts to the cubbies vacant of logic.

The hands of creatures buried long ago

jut up from the ground,

shedding their skin for lesser men to pick up and wear.

I sit and write while halfway around the world

these lesser men slaughter an equally majestic beast

for the money held in its belly.

A light flicks on and the lines of my shadow crispen,

it stands and walks off, leaving me alone,

and the smoke drifts higher,

the train has reached its destination.

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