,:~*££@###                                          ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@##                                          ##@££*~:,,
,:~*££@###                                          ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@##                                          ##@££*~:,,
,:~*££@###                                          ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@## 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.   ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@##                                          ##@££*~:,,
,:~*££@###                                          ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@##                                          ##@££*~:,,
,:~*££@###                                          ###@££*~:,
,,:~*££@##                                          ##@££*~:,,