Picture of the Day
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December 19, 2002

it is good, waking up on the train.
i do it all night, barreling across wide flat states.
i dream vividly but can't rouse myself to write it down.
as a consequence, all is forgotten when light comes up.
the train stops for a smoke break in whitefish. the usual
lounge/smoker car is missing this trip, something about
a mudslide in everett. a few rogue flakes flutter and fall
as we stretch our legs on the platform. there's james, who i first met
in october '98 on this same train when i moved out west. yesterday,
we were surprised to see him and wife nan in king st. station;
their couchette is just one down from ours. we eat breakfast
with a 41-year oregon fishing veteran; his dad had done 50.
back in our room, we draw the curtain and get naked,
just one of the many advantages of travelling this way.
mountains, plains; horses run from the sound of the train.
a cattle skeleton lies where it fell--why move it?
it could be africa because i'm reading hemingway.
i imagine myself living out here, renting out
colorful heavy equipment all day, then hitting
the bar. one could probably go good
and crazy without much interference.