like a cool vein through piles of steel.
partially frozen
covered in snow
leaves swimming in puddles atop the ice.
we whiz by too quickly to see
what lies below the surface
but the old ladies on the other side of the car
know what may be there.
years of riding this same track
to those same desolate places
brings a wisdom that others
will never know.
but still,
we watch out the window,
and catch our reflections in the glass
that distracts us from seeing
what is really below the surface.
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