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