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Throw the television off the train

These tracks going where few

Dare to venture alone

Through fields and plains

Colored with the tide

Winds moving the orange and red

Bare branches push up up

Sticks once bearing life, now

Only their core with variety

Skinny arms reaching to rid of

Too many other skinny arms

And wrists and hands

Crowded around in the

Rust gathering fields of steel

Power lines along side

Run in up and down waves

On a corresponding journey to life

The curves float as

Motion gathering momentum

With each cusp

It’s time to go home

Track 22 promises to take us there

To a place where smells and places

Familiar to greet and

Space for straightening question mark out into

Confident exclamation

Trails of feelings laced from

Here to the same places these

Veins and roots go deep

Trails like those of streets

Defining a new life source

With radical speed and

Revolutionary ideas

Learning to grow in revolutionary patience