The train in monotonous
motion.
Passengers silent. No
commotion.
Half-hour captives on
their chosen ride,
Grasping papers with
fierce pride.
The collector comes with
true cheeriness
To extract smiles from
studied weariness.
All pretend not to notice
each other -
Hidden behind their
newspaper cover.
Men, now and again, fix
noose-tight stares -
Primeval way to say,
You’d better beware!
The drunk’s slumped,
mouthing nothing -
Stirring passengers in
this moving coffin.
Then, finally, we arrive.
And the drunk is still alive.
The rest grab luggage
like dogs at a bone
Thinking they’ll soon
be back home.
And me? I carry on.
Listening to the train’s
song.
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