Steam and Smoke Reverie
by Odin Roark

Clickety-clack.

Once Silver Streaks from east,
Phantoms from west,
afar they came with
excitement’s voice,
memory’s anticipation.

Once young eyes bright,
cheeks pressed on glass
seeing the platform ahead,
smiles amassed,
behind waving hands,
welcoming home
travelers one and all.

Clickety-clack

Rails once polished for speed
sought the grip of wheels,
worker’s deft swirling wrists
did windows clean
for mirroring romantics by night,
reflected sun-driven ambitions by day.

Peering back…

Recollection embraces sentiment,
as different light appears beyond,
leaving behind iron horses of yesterday,
where imagination embraced eyes always open.

Anticipation fades into tunnels of another kind,
bullet speeds loaded in the chambers of tomorrow,
poised to blur the past,
a vacuous space without character,
focusing only on sterile stations here,
mechanized people there.

Slingshot travel of stealth-like movement eyes and ears never discern,
a frictionless expectation imbued with shadowless tech,
ipads, iphones, iwatches iimplants,
one’s always-available, but untouchable companion
careening through virtual tunnels of isolation’s reality.

Clickety-clack
now
Magna-tech.

Obsolescence quietly exits in mass,
mesmerized minds submit to complacent trust,
wanting reason to believe
it can be in all places at all times.

Disappearing are yesterday’s modest rewards,
where snacks and cocktails upon boarding
accompanied well the relaxing rhythms of imperfect rails,
delivering passengers late as scheduled,
yet with its no-charge sensory awareness intact.

Might destination’s doorstep be asking we pause and consider:
will a Mach-speed future deliver experience worth remembering,
or merely accommodate with on-demand museum-like preservations,
the once unique sounds and sights
of steam and smoke?