Ten O’clock on the Four Thirty-Four Allen Arthur Ribbons of steel, Diesel smoke smell, Dull roar of three giant engines. Old man chewing tobacco, talking about the war. Gondolas and hoppers, Boxcars and flats, One hundred and fifty, One hundred tons each, Headed for parts unknown; Cities’ factories, Small towns’ sidetracks. Two guys in the crummy, passing a flask. Out of the city, headed east. A few small towns, Red dirt farms, Deep Fork River running swift. Junkyards and oil refineries. Wheatfield combines, Cattle a thousand head, Thoroughbreds and country girls, all well fed. Cane pole, rope swing, Skinny-dipping and catfish, Fishing hole boys, waving at the train. Highball Jack! Tulsa tonight. Hotel room, beer joint, Thirty year old hookers. Ten O’clock on the Four Thirty-Four. Ham and eggs, taxi ride, Roundhouse grease. Get the engines on the train, Hit the main line switch, Highball Jack! Oklahoma City tonight.
