The Pacifist A crane brings down the white upon the rails. I dream of the Pacific. An illustrated marine life lies on my lap. An armless soldier in the facing seat watches me craning the white inside my trance. A five legged spider crawls at his good armâ€˜s end. The pacific heaves the white up. The giant turtles swim off the foam and slink into the magazine. The train runs late, halting before every pacifist crane.