memory, childhood. we live on 8th street, the tracks are behind the pink run-down apartments on 9th. the trains run at all hours of day and night. at night, their horns echo in my sleep, no more disturbing to me than the sound of my own soft heavy breath.
now, 2:44 am. i lay awake, hearing every single train on its way through town, despite being over a mile from the tracks in a different house. despite having slept through a university dorm, a lively apartment of 7, a loud bustling city. they are ceaseless, endlessly annoying. it becomes more and more evident that i have been away for some time.