An Arrow Through The Superchief's War-Bonnet Poem by Shannon Walker

There are no words
To forestall this
Collapse;

To explain,
Not the deep aching
You causally get at
Heartbreak,

But the fluttering
In the valves and sidewalls,
Even when I feel OK,
How the coffee's gone
Bitter,

But you know it's not the brew,
And you're left wondering
What's changed inside
That's turned everything old and
Used:

Thirteen years old at Disneyland,
Disgusted by the towering oak tree
That suddenly has plastic
Leaves,

Or in car #2 of a
1936 Mercury Streamliner
That just came off the rails,
And dumped you outside of Barstow,
Out of breath, and into the
Weeds,

And then, the meth-heads,
'What you gonna do with them shoes
Captain?

Can I have this car; I mean
It's no use
As a train
Anymore? '

And what used to be the
Shiny streamlined transport
To the future, becomes a home for
Vagrants.

'Come on Captain? You can stay too.'
But all I want to do
Is put half inch holes
In these fools: execute them
On their knees, outside the
Caboose.

But the rails are rusty,
And the engine's on its side,
And all the rage in the world
Won't patch the boiler,
Or put Grandma back inside,
Because steam engines are gone,
Aesthetics mean nothing,
And my Pop
Has died.