by Annette Marie Smith
There’s an old set of railroad tracks that run along Clark Avenue towards the back of the artists lofts where I live.
They stop abruptly at Harcrest Avenue before they reach us, unable to cross the road, seeming to disappear into the asphalt.
The place where they disappear looks to be the very place for a haunting
which is really a way of remembering
and is far more reassuring than frightening in any way to me.
When there’s a full moon I like to think that silver beams forge a latticework of railroad ties to let the ghost train over.
You can see it pause, taken aback, at its reflection in the real-time train that flashes by on University Avenue.
Then it starts to locomote again and sing its song: remember me, remember me, remember me.
Composition note: Some of the avenue names have been changed. Poetic license.