Down Those Wooden Tracks

You are asleep on my arm.
We’re on a slow train to New York City.

I brought a book, but mostly I just watch the scenery pass outside my window. The world is too big to fit into my hands, but not your heart.

We burn up highways.
We make love in hotels.

There is too much to see, so we only look at each other; everything still takes our breath away.

I want this moment to last.

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