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