The San Diego Coaster Train

The San Diego coaster train glides against the blinding sky.
Machine-like driving senselessness follows its track into the sun.
All aboard seem serene, assured—
The sea-soaked sunlight glittering their eyes—
See the deep blue Pacific Ocean ignited,
Feel the free motion, near flight of the coaster train,
Burn with quick bright fire light, aware of where they’re flying to,
Yet smolder sleepily in shadows made by clouds.

And the hills that surround San Diego, nearby, are on fire.
Dry brush burns and eucalyptus trees melt
Or twist and explode
Or writhe
In a dance
Like a flame-tongue
With the sun-fire
As a partner
Or the fiddler.

High above that burning ground, still beneath the sun,
On Olympus sits a columned house on solid ground
Surrounded by those sleepy clouds, smoldering, slumbering.
There someone sees the train slip away into the sound of its whistle.
Then that too slips into the blue Pacific sizzle and pop.

The sun has passed from east to west,
Has burnt even those cool moist clouds
That shelter with dreaming shadows.
So, even the sleeping gods start to sweat.

And between the burning hills and the broad, boiling ocean,
The coaster train flies to the sun with near-flight motion.