I've seen that train before

peeling along the line of the horizon

cabooses flashing blue, red, red, blue, green, white

where I stopped to get a picture of the faded

Picacho Peak motel sign.

When the wind whipped dust devils into a frenzy

and the sun shone so hot

it was a warm hand on my arm.

When I came so close to filling up on hope

at an empty gas station

with my camera in my hand

knowing that all that was expected

would take seed, grow, flower and unfold

in a single hour on the car ride home.

When my heart took off chasing the train

on some long haul to Idaho.

And I missed the exit for Sunshine Road

but I didn't turn around or try to go

and came back home alone

Because I know now, I've seen that train before.