For Carrie's Heart
Which way did you say you were going? I didn't hear. I think you were going west when you were near. Time pushed you forward, and I fall back. The night ate you up, past the street lights where everything is black. I remember seeing the smoke curl like a cat's tail, and the tale told about you hopping the trains down south. I don't know who's mouth it came from, but I hope your stories become legends that sail, from ear to ear and sprout from windows over wires. We hear nothing now. Maybe you went too far. Fires burn still for you, and there's always a place for you, home in the stars.