,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@                                          @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@                                          @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ i follow  the  tire tracks west. they go @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@# parallel  with  the railroad,  with  its #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ endless mirrors  looking kinda  oily. an @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@# incredible power bound there... there's  #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ a wire fence to  separate the two roads. @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ even  though there's  a foggy quality to @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@# the air, the path  i follow  is glowing. #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ a  yellow-green   moss  has  taken  hold @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@# where  the   machines  who  made   these #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ tracks  once disturbed the clover field. @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ we're  off the  season  when  the  birds @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@# sing beautifully.  these days  it's just #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@      screeches, or calls for help.       @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@ i   think  of   the  jackdaw  i   maimed @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@                                          @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@                                          @£&*$*~:,,
,:~*$*&£@#                                          #@£&*$*~:,
,,:~*$*&£@                                          @£&*$*~:,,