going to tomoko's auto care
is stepping into the past--
a grimy garage in an old
warehouse, the kind of
place they'd find the body
in a 1970's tv crime drama,
complete with period correct
Super Cobra with its hood
up just gathering dust. after
leaving our car for service,
i walked 2 miles to SODO
light rail station, leaves wet
from morning rain dripped
on me with every breeze
and it felt nice. took my
time, ambled over the
hump of 4th ave south
overpass, paused at its
peak, looked down on
the reason seattle is
here, the lines of steel
stretching back into the
19th century, track after
track of sprawling freight
yard, the young city's
heart that pumped to
a locomotive rhythm. |
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and it never stopped.
today, standard steel boxes
packed tight with stuff are
lifted off flatcars, slotted
onto truck trailers for the
short drive to the harbor
where cargo cranes
graze like dinosaurs.
further on, a golden
sarcophagus for an
extinct politics: FDR's
whistlestop campaign
car, a museum piece
relegated to serve as a
chinese restaurant--the
orient express, formerly
andy's
diner--where a lone
crow looked right through me,
seeing my future as a ghost...
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