carried your body
down to the rockwell tracks
maybe the third rail
would have the power to bring you back

city-bought current
to re-calcify your bones
light up your skeleton
then we’d both walk home

and as i laid you down, i saw a dead rabbit that had been there for weeks. it must have gotten electrocuted itself, because its fur was so hard, charred, and sharp-looking that no amount of rain or getting constantly run over by bullet trains could alter its form. it looked strong, petrified not in the sense that it was scared, but in the way trees get petrified: immortal, un-moving, and turned to stone in its afterlife. if the CTA did that to a rabbit, then maybe it could do that to you.

reborn in the night
under sodium lights
friends and family in sight
hold tight, they’re all waiting for you

follow the torch
to your spot on the porch
man, i know that you’re scorched
no gore, they’re all waiting for you

remember when
you got to do it again
man, this isn’t the end
my friend, they’re all waiting for you

back from the dead
so you can sleep in your bed
the powdering of the lead
homestead, we’re all waiting for you

stumbled to your feet
and something in you broke
started talking backwards
as your eyes began to smoke

i should’ve known that something was wrong when i looked down at the tracks and saw gears—tiny pieces from an iPod or a flip-phone or hell, even a walkman—that had gotten smashed between the rail and the gravel long ago. the tiny plastic mechanisms melted into your skin as the electricity coursed through you. maybe it was our fault that you weren’t the same. our fault that the outdated shards dripped into your body to disrupt whatever resurrection was taking place. our fault that you would pull a "pet sematary" and come back to us haunted. but we still managed to get you home, and we were better for it.

reborn in the night
under sodium lights
friends and family in sight
hold tight, they’re all waiting for you

follow the torch
to your spot on the porch
man, i know that you’re scorched
no gore, they’re all waiting for you

remember when
you got to do it again
man, this isn’t the end
my friend, they’re all waiting for you

back from the dead
so you can sleep in your bed
the powdering of the lead
homestead, we’re all waiting for you

welcome home
(i think you've got it)
welcome home
(they're all waiting for you)

southport
paulina
addison
irving park
montrose
damen
western
rockwell

i was late for the doctor that day, so i ran to catch the train. it was raining out, and i slipped on the platform. my right headphone hit the wood and cracked. i lost my iPod, but i can still hear the ringing in my ears.