Sleepers**** Poem by Neil Young

little light… shining… her soft voice pleads… each piano shard cold and biting

dark October races by… out there a distant light ignites her words
this school exchange… we take the night train… Moscow to St. Petersburg
my Walkman whirrs… tape spools turn… the train's voice conjugates invented Russian verbs

kerchushka… kerchushka… kerchushka… translates as motion luring us to sleep
I stay awake… watching… listening… private moments stolen in the company of sleepers
the long considered night drags us further than the distances we feel

she mumbles now… you won't hear me come in… you won't hear me leaving...