“Ad Nauseam” by Nate Maxson

I’m on a train in the dark, curled up in my seat pretending to sleep/ starry rave lights, anticipatorily flicker in the windows and the body of the thing
Riddled with one way engine-holes, through which pinpricks of the landscape flash by cinematically
But inside, objects are in motion
Men dressed like mechanics are hauling large, heavy looking crates through the aisles
I know what is inside/ where the tracks end, you can feel the slowdown: not yet
All the passengers are faking it too
Watching with one eye, like cautious crocodiles
My first experience with such machinery was from lingering images of the Siberian winter in the film Dr. Zhivago, so I know where this is going
We all know (what untimed fauna stands just outside the roads and paths carved through)
In the end
Everything wakes up


Nate Maxson is a writer and performance artist. The author of several collections of poetry including The Whisper Gallery and The Torture Report, he lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.



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