She was a girl on a wagon train, headed west across the plains, the train got lost in a summer storm, they couldn't move west and they couldn't go home, then she saw him ridin' through the rain, he took charge of the wagons and he saved the train, and she looked down and her heart was gone, the train went west but she stayed on....
The train comes through almost every thirty minutes. For five long excruciating minutes the horn blares incessantly. At first it was no big deal. I didn't notice it. But now every time the horn goes again, my eyes roll and my anger grows.
The train tracks are a block and a half from my bedroom. They cut downtown and the border off from the newer commercial side of town. There is one bridge that passes over the tracks. All the other streets make you wait for the train to pass.
Today the train didn't move. It rolled into town and decided not to move out.
Maybe it's foreshadowing my decision.