Round wheels found patterned, pebble pavement opened Heaven and white walls.
Who were washed, dropped brown mud crowns broken on soft breathing ground. It's not loud.
Color from clay, (my dearest sulfate) I'll wash away three days one glass with sparkling diamonds drops I cannot catch. Fingernails orange and chipped, I sip
waste six more days but saved my veins, still dream of trains. I think of engines, coal and triumphant triangle iron. Trains have become much more than that.
CTA and there's no Racoon roadkill. White walls around pink stink, black drops of gum beneath me.
Maybe in daisies, I believe; mosquitos and flies I wear pants. I've got less eyes and more lies than that.