Three Lights

Staying safe in between the busy railroads,

Running trains brushing off painted antidotes.

The trees lean on my clavicle, cracking it in,

And feeling good seems to be the original sin.

Leaves shaking my ribcage with seven winds,

Heart chambers made out of empty cans and tins.

Roots graying out but I’m standing my ground.

Seeing the three lights approaching

Kicks my recklessness, so new-found.