There were tracks about a mile away from
the house I grew up in. We
lived pretty far out in the country. Sometimes, after the
midnight train
went past, you could hear the baby
coyotes yipping and
howling at the train
as it roared off into the night.
I would walk the
tracks for hours, falling into a
trance watching the
ties repeat beneath me. I ceased to see what I was looking at. It was
an interesting state of mind. Once I stepped on an
empty turtle shell and didn't see it until it had
exploded into dust and pieces under
my foot.