Maybe, this time I can reply with a confident “hello” and not with a half—open hand, pulling away together and through before the train comes through the whistle, letting out some steam, letting go of some mechanical steam? Absolutely, and far and away from there. How is your feeling today? Mine’s fine, I think. Possibly, this vermillion teddy all flushed moment has to bear my belonging, the long carpool all—unchanging indifference of shoreline. As I near my end, and the world rises up without a “No, thank you,” long cigarette break. The world doesn’t really count anymore, than to belong to all that was forgot, all the train tracks, the train comes tunneling down the mountain, before me, while, seated in the end of it, another figure, one I don’t know about yet, begins to become my future person. The on, the soft shine, and the fortitude to defend a side of. It’s hard enough to wonder what that crouching girl I just passed, saw in the bending grass by tracks breaking the softest line of field, before she looked hard through my shattering passengers.