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Once, passenger trains crossed the plains, stopping at each small town. Very few passenger trains remain and their lonesome whistle shattering the prairie night makes the Coyote howl.
Swaying, rocking, dreaming,
Riding the rails with his Momma and Daddy, on
the Burlington to Alliance on a summer evening,
stopping in each town along the way: Mitchell,
Scottsbluff, Minatare, Bayard, Bridgeport,
backwards to Northport, then on to Alliance;
the young boy stares, awestruck at the huge, black
man who walks through the train in his uniform,
calling out the stops. "AAAAAliiiance....
AAAAAliiiance! Change of trains coming."
The black conductor, the boy's first Negro,
(They were Negroes then) and he is stunned
by the beauty of the man's red lips against
blue-black skin, as the prairie night comes to
life, singing out names of the constellations
that occasionally light the train's windows.
"Elllssworth!"
"Laaaakeside!"
"HyyyyAnis!"
on into the night
Soon, the darkness overtakes him.
He sleeps,
swaying , rocking, dreaming.
© William Davis 1997
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