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Surrendered
     in the middle of December
     amidst the Pine and Oak and Spruce
Loosely from his lips
     came his confession of love
     for the power of the train
     the extension of the track
Leading away from his Puritan life
     into the wilds of the unknown
     into the wilds of the West.

He couldn't resist the lust of the rust
     thrust into saloons and parlors
     cowboys and the lawless
     the loveless skies and the desert
Sucks a man dry
     or so I've heard
     and nothing I could do in this winter interlude 
     could change his mind
     and make him stay.

Something about the other side
     of Mississippi's hips 
     called to him
He blundered on to say
     with the look of a child on Christmas day
     would I wait for him?
I knew
     his tomb
     stones on the desert floor
     would be all I'd ever see of him again.

What could I do but surrender?
     Admit the Fates of Love had turned their eyes
     Blind to the die cast on this winter floor
I would hear his confessions of love no more

Just one post - his written word
     scribbled down in an opiate driven frenzy 
     of his sins on this sun-baked earth 
     he had surrendered to Her higher power 
and then was silenced.

Mississippi's hips and Western tracks
     are no match
     for the likes of a humble girl.
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