smoothly in the other to disappear behind a grove of poplar trees, stretching on to... anywhere he wanted.
His scrunched his wet toes inside an untied shoe and move it onto the rail. Then he stepped up, and raising his arms for balance, walked cautiously on the rail five steps in one direction, then turned and stepped five in the other, arriving back where he started. Either way these very same rails crossed the whole continent, ending at oceans—both of which he longed to see someday. He imagined he would meet others, like his teacher, who shared ideas so fresh and exiting—and foreign, to these people, in this homely place.
Let Simon Legree come after him. He had not been afraid—like some others in class—when she read the poem last week; and he was not afraid now. Besides, the whole town knew the section master was away, and only a drunken section hand had been delegated to protect the railroad property from dreamers like him. Some town’s folk were idled in the gossipy general store, others working on farms or machine shops or garages, filling up their weeks, till Sunday, when they would congregated like sheep in either one of two small jealous churches, piously praying for favors, or shivering in fear of hell. Then walking out in their dress up costumes to start the cycle again.
He was alone on the tracks, left to dream. He stepped down, knelt beside the rail and touched the warm un-giving steel, while the redwing blackbird left the cattail and flew above him screeching. He reached into the pocket of his dirty threadbare cotton pants, pulled out his lucky wish-worn penny, and set it on the rail.