Another poem i found today written on a napkin (seems to be my favorite medium-napkins and receipts!)

my grandfather’s palms
were so tender when he passed
like train tracks made of velvet snow
they remembered railroad ties
and tobacco glow,
ropes
and corn
jarring lids
up until the moment
when he couldn’t tighten things
any more.
At the funeral, a train passed
and rattled the words of
preacher Horn that day;
many felt it
as The Holy Spirit
we waited for as it passed through; Then,
we all filed out,
and went back to our other lives,
the ones we barely know in passing…