Flying Island

              Trip Taken by Rail There were too many trains this summer  so I didn’t get much sleep. They came rattling through my teeth and dreams. They came singing like mechanical whales in the distance and I stopped for the flashing red lights and pressed my hands against the gate arm and pressed my face into the air they dragged with them. I danced and danced to the ding-ding-ding. I put my ear to the rail  and watched death rocket toward me, its huge hungry mouth black and toothless. I bought tickets and swallowed  my own flaking skin to hide my trail. I wore a hat to stop  the wind-tangles from falling out of my hair. I lived off stored body fat and memories of my mother  who died. Her hands, always so soft. I chewed the corners off my tickets and pasted them all in my notebook so I would never ever forget that there was a time  when I went rambling off implacably the way a train never goes backward except  som...