Now
they remove level crossings in the name of Speed. Clogged arteries, traffic ‘chaos’
sorted. Across the network knotty joins are freed for increased combustion.
Meanwhile sentinels remain, slow weeds surround their foundations. Indifferent
graffitists badge their weatherboards. Stacks of old sleepers guard their
fastness. Windows are closed eyes on signal boxes. And inside? Great wheels
that turned gates stand unoiled. “Left behind,” think speedsters idling at crossings
remains. But they are spider queendoms, ivy pavilions, May weekend castles for
boys who find a crack in the floorboards. They play superhero knights and monks
inside as freeways proliferate, never stopping.
No comments:
Post a Comment