her breasts were trestles
for my iron train,
we tripped we nestled
as our steamy ride
powered and plunged
through soft sheets of rain
on steel tracks laid down
by Chinese men
living in shacks
drained of joy
by years of toil,
they sit silent and still
after fourteen hour days
their acumen sustained
while sweat stained
and stacked in
profane rows
like oily sardines.
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