A Railroad Town Poem by Albert Ahearn

The diesel locomotive wailed
Like a sick bull as it approached
The intersection; five bellows.
The dreaded traffic light turned red
And all of us just sat waiting
For this snail-like, slow-moving
Freight train to pass, while the traffic
was backing up to infinity.
Life becomes a standstill in time:
If your appendix burst, pray to god;
If you're in labor, tough titty;
If late for work, you curse and swear!
So you wait and count the freight cars...
One hundred one…one hundred two…

Onward west they roll
Swaying, screeching, click-clanking
Along rusty tracks.