Whistle Stop

Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad station, Mount Pleasant, Iowa.

All my life I seen things different.

I look at a place and I don’t see it like it looks now.

I seen everything ever happened in that place all at once, like the way you can drill into a tree and count the rings.

Some places, like roofs and treetops and the high sides of buildings, they barely got anything on ’em since no people been up there aside from window washers.

A place like the station, it’s so full of people that have passed through– why, it’s just a blur.

I can hear ’em sometimes, too.

Oh yes.


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