I was at the railroad in an unknown yard (but like a rail cut through a hill where I played when 10-12 years old). I was working third trick--midnight to 7 AM. The switchmen cut off and went home with a drag out of the industries on the tracks sloping down into a valley below, around a curve and out of sight. A poet I teach with said the switchmen left no hand brakes on it, so he had put enough on them to hold them from rolling. He then disappeared. I wanted to jump through the cars and look at an industry on the other side. Just as I touched a flat car of lumber and poles, the drag started rolling slowly. I decided to wait for an easy handbrake to come by and crawl up on the car and turn it to stop them. But the cars had separated and only three passed me. The rest stayed. I watched them go. They went onto a siding just before the valley and hit a wire fence--like home plate in baseball. The strong wire stopped them like a mitt. The tank car turned into a steam engine as it fell on its side. They were like toys from where I stood. I wondered if I should go home or go to the office. I decided to go to the office and to act as if I knew nothing. On my way I saw others derailed the switchmen had left when they went home.