Train Graffiti

If I knew how to paint her I'd cover all the buildings with murals. When trains went by people would see her running down the tracks. They'd see her face but it would be me, chasing after who she used to be--going farther and farther back. Crying us into a river, paddling across the tracks, eventually. Ending up nowhere, with nothing left but each other. Her perfect white hair would be covered in soot. And she would take me into her arms until I pressed deep inside of her, and the people in their cars waiting to cross the tracks wondering how a train could take so long to pass will have watched our whole lives. Then, as the last train-car went by, there would only be one of us--soaking wet, and smiling.