Desire has no name 

Circular ties running a freight train

Round and round

    You bought the ticket

        The conductor doesn't smile

As he punches your ticket

    Flames rise up 

Screams are heard

   "Those are the trains brakes."

"But we're in the station. We're not moving."

 No reply 

  The train pulls out.

Into the night of the Sun. 

  "You have no tanning lotion."

Something about a basket.

   You take a seat and take a hit off a fifth of gin.

"Fuck it."