A factory man
forged in fights
on streets
and bars
on iron clad nights
and a local girl
born and raised
in longing,
loss
and dreams unglazed
who crash sometimes
behind the shades
to drink,
to fuck,
to drop their blades
on this desert town
of dirt and dust,
of cactus,
crows
and mounting rust.

An old train tears
right through the town
to tense,
to tease
all those around,
it rarely stops,
just blows on through
the drab,
the dust,
that vacant view.

A factory man
forged in fights
on streets
and bars
with small town sights

and a local girl
born and raised
who now owns
a ticket
toward freedom days.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/a-seat-on-the-train