One train overtakes another going the same way,
so two sets of passengers come eye-to-eye
and out one side of each train
a world flashes by, and opposite,
a world of strangers, passing slow.
As one end of a kayaker’s paddle cuts into a lake
the other end flings water at the sky.
A hand that can squeeze into a fist, turn a key,
or stroke her cheek is the perfect, backward twin
of the other, clumsy one.
Somewhere it’s early evening, but here, early morning:
into a smack of yawning air, the overtaking train
snaps free. Sunflash, stereo store,
a boy bends down, seeing a nickel—
Copyright © 2012 James Arthur
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.