,=^%@£#@## ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# #@#£@%^=,,
,=^%@£#@## ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# #@#£@%^=,,
,=^%@£#@## ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# 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. ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# #@#£@%^=,,
,=^%@£#@## ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# #@#£@%^=,,
,=^%@£#@## ##@#£@%^=,
,,=^%@£#@# #@#£@%^=,,