“There were ribs, brains all over. I never saw anything like this. The train was blown apart.“


Brains kiss the exploding train goodbye. “This is the beginning of something special.“

Ribs, brains depart at Platform Quatro carrying the wine for dinner.


At a book stand a merchant tries to interest them in a leatherbound volume of Spanish poetry.


The sound bite becomes famous. The first words spoken by the train after it exploded.


Another one of the exploding trains gives a talk at the Hiroshima memorial and is rumored to be in line for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Ribs, brains, aren't doing so well. They have grown apart.


They watch their old friends the exploding trains on TV with the sound muted.


Somehow their life got derailed. They were idle, and needed to get back on track.


Every glossy Italian fashion magazine features an interview or photo shoot of the exploding trains.


They lounge about modeling the new casual suits of famous designers.


The exploding trains get together for their ten year reunion.

Brains, ribs, long for the simple life.


They search through old newspapers to find the famous photo of them posing with one of the exploding trains.


They seemed to have been removed from the photo.


Nobody wants to see a picture of ribs, brains. That's disgusting.


“Hey not to make light of the biggest terrorist act committed on European soil since World War II, but we're having fun, getting older. I just want to keep exploding forever. We had our fifteen seconds-“


“Whoah, whoah. What do you mean since World War II? How could there be terrorist attacks during a full-on war? That's not terrorism, right, that's combat.“


“The fire bombing of Dresden for example.“


“Okay you are just off the tracks with that one, I'm sorry, that is off the line. You're not a historian, you're an exploding train.“

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Newspoetry at Spineless Books