The trains go on all night, like a sentence I can’t get to you. No one told me about this big, sad world — and all its people — and all its broken promises. I watch out my window, waiting for something, never knowing what. Wanting — endlessly — wanting — aching. And there are cars, and boats, and airplanes — my hands and feet — and the trains — their lights, always, like something I can never bring myself to say. They go on, all night, down the tracks, unstoppable, incomprehensible, untouchable. Like my body, or my heart, or my love. One train, for just a second, swallowing up all the sound I never make. Taking your name. And mine. And all of it — taking all of it — down the line.