Rain November Night Transportation
Monday, November 10th, 2008
Search lights sweep loosely in the misty air above the country airport grounds. Round and round, an effect that resembles faint psuedo-moonlight is cast on the bare trees, the holy rusted chain-link fence, the crevices in the uneven ground that show through red as clay. The airplanes are unanswered prayers tonight that can’t see the beacon for its as weak as the faith shown by the tower crew.
Weather has kept the cessnas and larger craft in the air or on the ground, wherever they were held up before the clouds came down. Hanger doors are padlocked shut and the lights inside them are dark – tools untouched and the grease spots dried in place from Sunday afternoon flights.
Tonight, a freight train rolls haunted through the industrial park to where the land smooths out and becomes corporate office grounds, runs through intersections, past the old newspaper office, the day care where the children have been picked up for the night and the play equipment is beaded with rain and the plastic sides are coated with dirt and mulch.
Now on through the intersection – flashing red lights come down in great folded arms and the long train body rolls through dim headlights, on past the historic house rows, the red-brick downtown district, the junk yard marked by chain-link fence and eyeless car bodies, then wheat fields, more bare trees, the elaborate equine ranch and trail laid out by white picket fences, then on into blackness and darker shadows.
