Heavy rail collides with the chords of modern mass communication. Coded messages ripple at the speed of light. Where's the disco ball. Already my position on the earth has been targeted to within a third of a foot, or less. Is there a threshold of safety. I edge closer. My follicles tingle. Recalling the rapture experienced before the gilded statue of Goddess Athena in the Parthenon nearly twenty five hundred years ago.
© r0081-16 Railroad Truss
Saturday 25 May 1985