When I first moved here, I avoided the trains. I didn't trust them.
They seemed to appear out of nowhere: emerging from a fog; materializing out of the ether; peeking around a corner.
They watched. They snuck up behind and rushed past. They made the sidewalk tremble beneath my feet.
From a distance, they seemed out of proportion. Unreal. Like toy trains circling a model city. And I began to believe the whole city was out of proportion, too.
Out of proportion to Mt. Hood. To the hills and trees. The bridges over the Willamette.
I still feel a little nervous when one creeps up behind me and rushes past.
But I allow myself to get close. The closer I get, the more out of proportion they appear. Except now, that confirms they are real.