The Old Line

Caught in a puddle.Two rails.Bright enough to follow.Look up.No tracks.Look down.Tracks again.A photograph taken.Another.The rails bendtoward a brick wall.An old man pushes a cartto the dry edgeand stops.A kid lifts something silverfrom the gutter.For one secondthe rails continueacross the wall.Then a tirebreaks the water.Gone.Checked the photograph later.Only rain.Came backthe next wet morning.There they were.