Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car, br I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly. br No wind. br br Beyond town, three heavy white horses br Wade all the way to their shoulders br In a silo shadow. br br Suddenly the freight car lurches. br The door slams back, a man with a flashlight br Calls me good evening. br I nod as I write good evening, lonely br And sick for home.