Loco-motive

its like a long train
with it's engine burning bright
it's like a crosstie
with it's rocky bed so tight
it's like a smooth track
with it's rails so snowy white
it's like a slow freight
with its bumps throughout the night
it's like an iron horse
with it's puffs and snorts of might
it's like the last express
with it's rush clear out of sight
it's like a dirt road at the end of the line
it's like a train wreck
that the Devil might design.

a poem about a cocaine freak I used to know
1982