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Express Poem

Even in darkness
or hidden by a curve
there are vibrations
before it appears,
barreling towards
me, waiting small
and scared, shivering
in the glare
from the headlights,
wishing for someone
else to save me,
sure I’m not fit for the job.
Here they come–
Headlights of the express
train bearing down on me
here,
where I’ve tied
myself to the tracks.

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