Hot Pursuit
from Metro
a Traveling Tales of Waybackwhen book
The cold
does not bother him.
Etched into his bones
as the emptiness
resides there.
It has found
a home, to languish in.
It is where the heart is:
to have
and to hold
as it bleeds out
bridging fate and fiction.
What once
they shared
wrested between,
gate forever closing the gap.
Snow having fallen
flakes like teardrops
make their own tracks as well.
Ties and ballast
holding the rails
in place
his purpose
a shape.
Parallel lives
lines that will no longer
cross,
but that one
once he catches up.