Thursday, April 10, 2008

Trespassing in Ohio

The surface of the loading dock
had been milled by a century
of pallets and forks. The ballast
emerged in a loose
and slippery flour. I could feel it
grainy and drifting beneath my shoes.
Nails and washers compacted in
the sediment. A metal
cross-beam poised its hesitant
threat, rushing us
molecule by molecule.

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