Those ***** little
tiles
that made the sign

and  
the corresponding
wall

the thin slice
of concrete
for the platform

the flash
of blue lights
and the timpani

of  an on-rushing
train

these sketchy details

was I really there

if not
then where

why the face

why mind

the language
the syntax
the cadence

the lyrics
the music

of caution
of danger

Whit Howland © 2020