locomotory tender_square she promised herself she wouldn’t take the dirt trail that paralleled the train tracks. it was too remote at dawn. but she’d made it to the huron in quickstep fashion, could now crunch steps in the frozen grasses of the dormant meadow, her preferred place. she wanted a trail that zigzagged the hills before she’d climb out of the park and dutifully return to him, and the meadow was only way through. she’s taken a picture before: the low-hanging sun below the row of electrical wires, a gilded ornament above twinned trails, one for rail, one for feet. there was no one else around. she thought about stepping onto the tracks and staring into the endless horizon of each pole. a faraway horn interrupted her reverie. and she wondered whether she could watch a beam of light barrel towards her. “i don’t know how you can stand to live under a microscope,” her mother said during a confessional call the day before. she’d been up since 3:30 that morning, not knowing how she extricate herself from her union, from the country she no longer cared about, and she couldn’t see the path, the words “until death do us part” ricocheting like a pinball in her skull. her identification was in her pocket; the fob to the car that he didn’t know she had taken; her password-protected cell phone. no one knew where she was. how many hours would it take for those she loved to be notified? in the span of fifteen seconds, the trail of rail cars came through her periphery, a passenger train that departed from detroit. and she was rooted to the dirt as the blur of windows whizzed by, wizened by the motion as it tore through her consciousness. she wasn’t disquieted by the train’s celerity; she envied it. 220420 what's it to you? who go blather from