The Third Rail – Track 1

The Third Rail

The squirrel in a hurricane

Buffeted by strong gusts

And jostled by the swaying branch

Does not overworry that the tree might fall.

The crevalle jack swims next to the shark

But does not flinch in fear

Like I do when I’m driving

And I see the flashing lights of a police cruiser

Up ahead

On the shoulder of the road.

The rabbit under the open sky

Though he keeps a sensible watch for the eagle and the fox

Never wonders whether his life might be made a little easier

If he had a prescription for Klonopin.

And if you happen to catch a horse

Prancing alone under the moonlight

Moving as if to music only she can hear

And she happens to catch you watching her

You will not see a look of embarrassment

Cross her long face.

Unless it’s embarrassment for you.

As I ride the el-train tracks of this physical life

So poorly insulated is my wiring

That I can actually feel the third rail underneath me

Humming and crackling with power.

I put on my headphones

Read my book

Stare out the window

Or curl into sleep

And miles can go by without my awareness

Of the rail’s crackling hum.

But sometimes I fall from the train

Nudged by an indifferent shoulder

Thrown by an judgmental curve

Pushed by an angry passenger.

And I fall so close to the third rail of this manifest realm

That the hairs stand up on my arms

And ozone scrapes my nostrils

And at once I’m filled with visions

Of falling trees and swooping eagles

Of thrashing sharks and snarling foxes.

The pounding flash of the cruiser’s lightbar

Plays perfect unisons with the beat of my heart

And in the distance I can hear

As the train speeds away

The nervous laughter of a prancing horse.

 

photo credit: Swing Low via photopin (license)