off the congested platform we swell
the car, becoming part of the early morning procession.
We shift and conform, bodies exchanging space
shapes and colors fill each void like the sands of a kaleidoscope.
forward, gripping and gliding on steel and light
stand intimately like lovers or conspirators,
an anonymous touch. We
reflect distorted images
mothers and daughters, husbands and wives.
principles of personal space do not exist here.
recycle and share stale, deficient air consuming
exhaled breath of a stranger, so close
we strain to rest our eyes on anything but one another.
this paradigm of disassociation we hide
reports of murder, sport and weather
the rhythm of verse and chorus that cannot compete
the penetrating sound of rail and speed.
cling, we lean, moving together through a chasm of time,
through conscious disconnection.
through tunnels we advance toward destinations
split our lives as jarring stops define our realities.
fortunate sit like conquistadors upon plastic thrones
the standing masses grip tarnished metal poles
with layers of smudged impressions,
residue of our identities.
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