Each patch a slice of his life
a lens viewed at an acute angle
spliced,diced, drop-box explosion.
At first cut long and expansive
Aegean blue, teal, with just a hint of Arctic-
the steam train he drove all the way from Coalisland
as it groaned and chuffed and hissed and lumbered
its cranks propelling the great wheels
through the Milltown tunnel heading for Derry.
Her auburn hair cast shades of cerulean over the next patch
and azure blue and powder blue and eggshell
recalling in glimpses the after taste of their first kiss
though the rail tracks stopped singing and his hands grew calloused
laying one brick on top of another like his father before him
and his grandfather before that
And then navy and shadow grey and one loss after another
and sage green when even she began to fade
Until finally a lattice of ochre on black
gaps and holes and footloose sleepers
where the tracks ended and he slipped over
the edge.
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