Poem: Steps

                  Side Tracks – Bob Dylan


Written May 25, 2017


I see underneath the train cars to the other side,
the wheels and the blur of grass between them.

Box cars, caboose, waving, moving, red cars
one after another, some roofless.

Some full of what looks like black sugar but
I know it is coal.

The same thing every year, the Red Sox on TV
eating sunflower seeds in the pit, and spitting out shells.

Me picking seeds from the tall sunflowers in my
grandmother’s garden.

Past Main and Hastings and the bus stop and then Gore,
I walk up the street this week.

The back steps to your room are only a block away.

I wait there, staying out of the way of the police cars
and ambulance speeding onward.

The cars wait there, at the stoplights as the sun shifts to the
west and I walk on.

On the beach I stand and wait for the long train.


Written by Wendy Stewart

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