¨¨¨¨-:%&@# #@&%:-¨¨¨¨
¨:-:†%&@## ##@&%†:-:¨
¨::---††&& &&††---::¨
¨:-:†%&@## ##@&%†:-:¨
¨:-:††%&&# #&&%††:-:¨
¨¨¨¨¨:-†&# 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. #&%†:::¨¨¨
¨:-:†%&@## ##@&%†:-:¨
¨:-:†%&@## ##@&%†:-:¨
¨¨:::--†%@ @%†--:::¨¨
¨:-:†††††& &†††††:-:¨
¨:-:†%&@## ##@&%†:-:¨