new moon risingwe walked between the lake
and the rail yards smoking cigarettes and spitting on century old ties wondering if the midnight train would arrive on time it was a year ago tonight marshall died on these very tracks attempting to escape his own restlessness his dream of starting a new life in st louis or kansas city or santa fe seemingly interrupted we made a fire like we always do and sat in a circle our voices as quiet as stones skipping on water our karma just a little off kilter one of us asking rhetorically why there is no moon |
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