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by Carl Sandburg, 1916

I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation.
 Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.
 (All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall pass to ashes.)
 I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers: “Omaha.”

Published in Chicago Poems

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