##.#......                                          .##..##..#
##.#.....#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#....##                                          #.#.#.#.#.
##.#...#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#..##.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.# 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.   #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#.#.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
.#.#.#.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
##.#.#.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.