Driving Past Midnight, I Pause At The Rail Crossing Poem by Les Wordsmore

Hand over hand, I'm pulled to the right
As my tires screech and I turn left
Onto Redspring. The unlit road curls
And twists into Hemlock, due North.

I don't yet know my destination
but the appeal of my parents' house staled
and I no longer have a curfew.
My friends are out East, fast asleep.

I decelerate my Rodeo,
Tapping the brake to 'Fade to Black'
As flashes and bells, annoying more than alerting,
Signal an oncoming locomotive. I stop.

Craning my neck for the moon,
I see only darkness in a country store lot,
And beyond my vacant passengers seat,
The mouth of the woods, black and unwelcoming.

This town's roads became familiar
years ago, but I've yet to find the one
that doesn't lead back.

I search down the rail lines until
they come together and I find parallels.
Still no train. Amid unsupported
warnings, I'm alone on the road.

Am I Sal Paradise?
With nothing to offer anybody,
But my confusion?
This is the night. What it does to you.

Then a glow emerges from the bend,
Brighter still, approaching, blinding.
The engine draws near and I, on steering wheel drum
Change beat to the percussion of chugging and churning.

I eventually relent, and lose count, with
Train car after car blurring past,
Hauling mostly graffiti.

The passing of the caboose without warning
Reveals the serpent tongue of the road ahead.
And I the snake, sit hissing and hesitant,
Not knowing when to shed. Waiting -

Left to turn back to my home
And rest my mind in bed.
Or right to find that something more
And be anywhere else by daylight.

West to chase the fallen sun, or
East to rise anew on its return?