takin on the SP

they had been drinking all night
young punks with shaved heads and bright minds
they stood swilling Coors Light
decided to hit SP line heading south
they ran fast with blazing speed
they burned lactic acid as they jumped and hurled
upon the flat car they rested, the wind tested none

they sat huddled wondering what to do next
rumors swirled and sounds magnified
every moment the brakes bore down
they trembled in fear of the conductor
the rumors were that men of youth
and men of drunken stupor had been beat
that the conductor played games on sleeping hobos
with a bat he beat back the mind of those in slumber
so the fear rendered them immobilized like treed kittens

it was cold in the mountains, the ascent continued
they entered tunnels of darkness
heard sounds of screeching bats
anxious for some light they trained their eyes ahead
in the distance California came into sight
but they only knew the mountains were unyielding
the bite of air tore into there flesh like knives into the night

the rain came down in tiny mists of mountain dew
only their skin was seared by the journey
they were afraid, cold, trembling
children of the night
punks with shaved heads
broken down by the mountain turns

jumped to refuge in a small town
sat huddled, cold, waiting for rescue
lessons learned when you take on the SP