&&$««,,,,,                                          ,,,,,««$&&
##@&%$*«-,                                          ,-«*$%&@##
###&%$*«-,                                          ,-«*$%&###
@&$*-,,,,,                                          ,,,,,-*$&@
&$$«,,,,,,                                          ,,,,,,«$$&
###&%$*«-, i follow the  tire  tracks west. they go ,-«*$%&###
#@#&%$*«-, parallel  with the  railroad,  with  its ,-«*$%&#@#
&&$****«-, endless mirrors looking  kinda oily.  an ,-«****$&&
#@#&%$*«-, incredible power bound there... there's  ,-«*$%&#@#
#@#&%$*«-, a wire fence to separate the two  roads. ,-«*$%&#@#
#%$$$$*«-,                                          ,-«*$$$$%#
@&%*-,,,,, even though there's  a foggy quality  to ,,,,,-*%&@
#@#&%$*«-, the air, the path i  follow is  glowing. ,-«*$%&#@#
#&$*««,,,, a  yellow-green  moss  has   taken  hold ,,,,««*$&#
&%$$*-,,,, 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 ,,,««$$%%&
#@#&%$*«-,   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   ,-«*$%&#@#
@@#&%$*«-,                                          ,-«*$%&#@@
##%*-,,,,,                                          ,,,,,-*%##
#@#&%$*«-,                                          ,-«*$%&#@#
@&%$*-,,,,                                          ,,,,-*$%&@
##&&%$*«-,                                          ,-«*$%&&##