Transcription: It's called Train Passing. This event on 12th Street. Crossing the tracks I see a light. Way up the rails. Then the bells and the traffic barriers. Swinging down. Deciding to wait, I hook my arm around the lamppost. and count the engines as they approach. There are three. And I wave, thinking back to tracks by the pasture, when I was four and five. It's rolling fast, it's wind sucking. As the first engine passes, a hand emerges, beckoning from the black pit of the cab. And I stand there suddenly electrified. That hand is so seductive. And the train's such a mass. I can feel it in the ground. A ...