Grounded Feet and Leg Room

An hour in Shelby,
on the train
and off too Chicago.
Grounded feet
and leg room.
No pedals to my worry,
no traffic,
no skating on clouds,
just soothing turbulence.
Broken barbed wire
protecting this bullet
from the parallel road
and free plains beyond,
dotting the landscape
with wooden crosses,
holding the ropes.
Sleeping grasses
peeking through
a layer of cold grains
colored white.
A dimmed spotlight
tries to escape
its gray filter dome,
but must wait
until it falls
in piecesof crystal splendor.
Two Mexican kids
bring me back aboard
dragging fake Nike soles
on the aisle carpet.
And I'm 10 minutes past Shelby
1680 from Chicago.
Grounded feet
and leg room.