The backs of cities, towns and planned communities face the train tracks, revealing broken-down, rusted cars, a school bus waist deep in grass, power lines, dead end streets, fencing–miles and miles of chain link new, old, overgrown with dead vines, downed by fallen trees, silver, green, rusted, with barbed wire–bits and crap like stained couches, old tires, fridge, futon frame, bottles, a periwinkle leather suitcase, a toilet seat, abandoned brick train stations.

There’s the space left for nature, wild unfeeling nature left alone after being ravished, healing or full of health, (depending on whether she’d been ravished or not or how long ago, critical). Such a small thing to do, and then there’s a golf course.

I will still be watching you watching him and I will be sad because I can’t stop this train or the scenery from going past.