Waiting for the Next Train

How easily I am derailed.
Thrown off my track
And left in the dust
This side of nowhere.
Sitting and wondering my Whys.
Tracing circles
In the dirt with my hands,
Watching the coyotes glide low
Across the horizon as if they were the sun,
Listening to to the air hum
With the worlds unseen.
Finally, I lay back
In the dry weeds and wait for night
To take me so I can wake
Tomorrow and catch the next train.