the smile that hurled itself to the tracks

the smile that
hurled itself
to the tracks
did it quick
and with a
devil’s fluidity.
And though bystanders
begged it not to
they couldn’t help
but remark later
that there was
a raw beauty
to the act.

the smile that
hurled itself
to the tracks
whispered razors
before doing it,
and when they fell
clanging to the ground
a miracle metamorphosis
took place
transforming them
into bloodied
aortas, ventricles,
discarded love things
that the poets won’t
grapple with willingly
or otherwise.

And when they pulled its
bent and twisted form
off the rails
the smile smiled knowingly
while pleading
LET ME GO
LET ME FINISH RIGHT
WHAT STARTED
MISSHAPEN
IN THE DINGY SMOKE.

Amidst much struggle,
they carted off
the smile that
hurled itself
to the tracks
to be medicated
dissected
and lectured upon
by people with lead hearts
and metronome pulses.

And the smile that
hurled itself
to the tracks
will write me
letters sometimes.
They all say:
Don’t worry.
They’re running outta gas.
Their kind always does.
I’ll be back

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