# ther home. my fingers felt frost the icy wind drew water from my eyes the rails were slick with winter the cold clawed at my bones. my words came out in clouds as I called to a brakeman do any trains go east? I said he pointed to the sky. my son, he said, just look up there the clouds look the same everywhere and they’ll follow you anywhere that you can hop a train. so I will point you east, my son but your journey will not be done when you return to the city that you call your home. i kno (chordiearchive.chordie.com)