¨^~†*$#@@#                                          #@@#$*†~^¨
¨¨^~†*$#@@                                          @@#$*†~^¨¨
¨¨¨^~†*$#@                                          @#$*†~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~†*$#                                          #$*†~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~†*$                                          $*†~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~†* i follow the tire tracks west.  they  go *†~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~† parallel  with  the  railroad,  with its †~^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~ endless mirrors looking  kinda  oily. an ~^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^ incredible power bound there... there's  ^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ a wire fence  to separate the two roads. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ even  though there's a foggy  quality to ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ the air, the  path i follow  is glowing. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ a  yellow-green  moss  has  taken   hold ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ where  the   machines  who  made   these ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ tracks once disturbed the  clover field. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^                                          ^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~ we're  off  the  season  when  the birds ~^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~† sing  beautifully.  these days it's just †~^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~†*       screeches, or calls for help.      *†~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~†*$                                          $*†~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~†*$# i  think  of   the  jackdaw   i   maimed #$*†~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨^~†*$#@   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   @#$*†~^¨¨¨
¨¨^~†*$#@@                                          @@#$*†~^¨¨
¨^~†*$#@@#                                          #@@#$*†~^¨
¨¨^~†*$#@@                                          @@#$*†~^¨¨
¨¨¨^~†*$#@                                          @#$*†~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~†*$#                                          #$*†~^¨¨¨¨