tracks
we sat on a low wall
telling ghost stories
waiting for a train
that never came
walked home
behind the sleeping houses
with their backs
to the silent tracks
at the apartment
there was fresh berry pie
with dotted butter
still warm from the oven
we listened to Yeasayer
stared like new parents
at a lava-lamp cat
on the patio
the cat wasn’t worried
about the future
or the past
smart cat
/ / /
(Photo source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bblankwater/)
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