Balance

There are those
who surf on trains--
it happens in Brazil.
They ride, hanging from cars,
balanced on top
of cars, bellowing from
wide-open mouths,
shirts filled with air.
The tracks are waves,
each dip and curve,
bulge and rise
undulating down the length
of the cars.
I saw a rider fall once,
a look of curiosity
shading his face as,
slipping under the surging wheels,
he heard the shriek of brakes,
and then darkness, quiet and sweet like a friend.