All these heads, nodding in the same pace
As the wheels hit the rails,
or the monotone sound of rail joints hitting the wheels.

I close my eyes – and get a wider picture;
I see a veeery long train
one hundred cars, or even more!

Each car is one of my lives
ore cart, freight wagon,
wooden bench in third class,
second class, locomotive…
A pulsating chaos.

All these people
are a part of my life,
are a part of me,
are me, an alternative me,
Different days of my life.

I figure in this life, I’m the post wagon

Or that boy on the bridge,
who spellbound and wide-eyed
count the cars.

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Improvement suggestions are welcome!