Pure speed

I try to keep a light crust between the sidewalk and the bottom of my running shoes. Doesn't always work. Running through the underpass I heard travel mugs drag at my feet. Next bridge I came to a train standing still, no word from the locomotive. After a minute and half of pure hell, I pulled ahead of the train for good. Rusoda, cherry, black ash--a tree garden fell away as I sped past, the train labouring just to keep me in sight.

I caught the train again on the way back. Even facing the other direction, it was no match for my smouldering shoes, which cast a wake of black rubber necklace. I got all the way here; the train has barely budged.