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we watch the train pass in front of us
the aluminum bell hammering against the air, the train cars
speeding past, shaking pine needles from the trees
the red lights winking back and forth,
dim in the afternoon sunlight, the candy-striped arm vibrating

rippling along the rails like a horse tearing through a racetrack
and I can feel the blue of your eyes pressing into the flush of my cheeks,
the palm of my hand a child’s in your grip, white knuckles and scarred knuckles

it passes still
the moment is so fragile and I do not want you to speak
so I hold my breath behind my teeth and hope you understand my cues

something else passes in front of our clasped hands and our worn shoes
it rises into the air above us
it is the shape of our shared dream

your eyes are aphids devouring me
your thumbs press into my skin
and I can feel your fingerprints encrypting codes,
embedding your touch into my external hard drive
and I do not think you will be forgotten

and I think the people watching us pass will recognize our colors
and they will watch our bright eyes blinking in the brightness of our joy
they will wait to cross our path until our arms are raised above our pigeon-toed tracks and
we run along the voltage rails like stallions