In the Wake of the Train, Colors like Speckled Bands

In the wake of the train, the colors appear like speckled bands. They gleam like patio lights, strung from awning to fence to table set. Lined across the blackened tunnel, I see sets of green and red, like Christmas. I see blue bulbs, like waiting eyes. I see red circles, like stop signs. Then, I see the white eyes of you, behind. You follow in the dark, along the rails. You do not stretch from side to side. You come dead ahead and cut the colors cold with your white hot stare.