My memory the invisible buffalo

Lumbers through the vacant street

Considering the fences their

Sorrows

And the lightning died in its

Mine ob it must be

Some time back its name

Is written everywhere in faded

Dust

One of its

Gloves wheels on the sky over

The blind movie

And the station where the white train still

Attends

A bell that I hung onto as long as I could

Is about to arrive and start ringing