The Blue Trains Run After Midnight

Mary Hart at Mount Rushmore flashes a white power sign

or so some say.

Others say she is an automaton programmed and planted by QAnon.
Decades before, a woman claimed the tabloid TV anchor’s voice
caused epileptic seizures.
Here in this darkness, the truth is rarely spoken.

The mob beheads a statue of Christopher Columbus
and drags the torso across the square
and dumps it into the lake.
The ghost of Jack Ruby watches from the shadows,

wearing a mask and holding a gun.
We don’t follow him, he follows us.

The blue trains run after midnight
while a boy sleeps

with pics of poets pinned to his bedroom wall.
Here the night is long, and dreams are like fireflies in fog.
Here nothing is spoken.
Here nothing can be broken.