Feet of Chocolate

It's quiet and far away, but you can hear the train from here, sounding its horn as it crosses Oltorf just east of Lamar. I love the sound. It's lonely and nostalgic. When you think about it, it seems kind of funny that we still have trains, doesn't it? They are a relic of the past that's remained largely unchanged. I remember not that long ago when they still had cabooses, too. Or should that be "cabeese"? Whatever. I thought it was sad when those went away.

The sound is evocative of escape, and far-away places. You can imagine what it would be like to climb onto an empty boxcar and just see where you'd end up. You can pretend it wouldn't be a railyard in, say, Nebraska with a bunch of hoboes, which would actually not be all that pleasant. It's just a nice idea.

My favorite magnetic poem of the week is by Eric:

I want chocolate feet
to put on a
summer sausage
like in the pictures

together they are cool

I guess he spends more time browsing YouTube than I do.