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I live on the side of town where the trains still run; the rails still run. Their shining, rust colored rails trail off into the horizons to the south and east and west and north. At night the trains run and sound their horns.
The rails are disappearing. The main lines have been restored and renewed and will run for some time yet but there are many that civilians have found to be a nuisance. The people have asked over and over to shut down the rails so that during their commute they will no longer have to wait as the trains lumber across the street. They truly are giant and hulky masses. The ground rumbles. They blow their signal of nostalgia. They disappear.
Just beyond the sidewalk the rails disappear
This occurred to me when I saw a vehicle that stops at all rail crossings stop at a rail crossing. The problem was that the rails’ terminus is also just beyond the sidewalk on either side of the road. The rails crossing the street will no longer carry the trains for there are no other rails to bring them hence. But this vehicle stops for all rail crossings. The question of the onlooker is now: “Why stop? Diligent safety protocol? or out of respect to the end of an era?”
Trains made this world the place it is. We have the west because of the trains. From time to time I dream of riding the rails and seeing the parts of the country that no one sees. There are beautiful places and I’ve heard and read about them. Rails go there. Trains roll through. Cargo doesn’t have much of a memory and doesn’t have the wit to take pictures. The rest of us are left to wonder what is being forgotten.
