Pygmalion in the railway delta, having selected,
Roulette of the tracks, will lie and wait,
with throat and ankles meeting the straights, across the span
sometimes the metal sounds are near, sometimes far,
I calculate with infinitesimals because purity is my grail, he says,
Whether the tonnes of iron will choose the same,
Where is the one true outcome inside a multitude of false?
The Perils of Pauline, The Exploits of Elaine,
Pacific 6-2-2 will mince him fine, Mogul 6-2-0 will have his soul,
The chancery is no different to always, he says,
To home or heaven, one or the other tonight.
Tonight, he will go to his home,
Or he will go to heaven, one or the other tonight.