soon there wont be night trains any more,
just the kind, that with
cargo at night
stutter through the valleys
no disc brakes
no plastic croissants
served in the morning
by a rumpled attendant.
only car suppliers, which
order sealings,
in the morning sleepy they discharge
the wagons in the plant.
onto the assembly line the sealings
into the motorcar with them
drowsy eyes in
the cities tungsten light.
off the line wrapped in plastic
onto the train to the
point of sale, waiting there