Watching the Moonlight in the Side of a Train

There's a train painted over with mirrors
making the moon dance like fireflies in its side.
It's a moving lake wrapping up whatever gift
it's carrying across this piece of the plain.

I've got a lake folded up inside of me.
I've wrapped all the other lakes inside of it.
It's the first lake I remember, the one
where I caught a dead bluegill on broken branch.

The lake is an ocean of lakes. It's many
horizons wide and the world goes about the rest
of its business with timeless vigor
when I float at the center in a little boat.

The boat is not a symbolic boat, the lake
folded up inside me is not the lake with the boat.
The moon was never in the train and the gift
wrapped up inside is not the fish or the branch.

A train may carry a boat and a boat may hold me
up on the water at the center of the lake.
When I see another lake, a feeling unfolds horizons
wide while the world goes about it business.