A puzzling site it is in an early mist
those mysterious machines on rubber shoes
yellow they are.
He sees them on all his quests
From coast to coast
Even to the hottest depths.
They multiply like
Toys in a cheap sideroad store
She spies them upon the blackened dreams
Neath wet sheets from a noble land
Laboring to aimless destinies.
Into the setting of another Monday
They ride to the last days of their dreams
Caterpillars on wheels.
Into the silence of that oblivion to come
Echoing still of those charming giggles
Of gentle souls hugging precious crayons.