Deisel

Amidst the low-lying fog

Baby-aspirin orange lights
Beckon
Alchemic
From the shadows of the trainyard

Sounds of bells
Air-horns
And heavy diesel motors
Make me hard
As they belly-drag
Burdoned
Scraping moon-bright steel rails
Passing by slowly
Like apparitiions I’ve rubbed up against
Stumbling
Swaying
From the smokey bar in front
To the derelict
Urine steeped
Bathroom
At the rear.