Jammed like rows of canned fish
strangers acting strange
on a 6 o’clock bullet train…
labeled as hats or ticket stubs
coughing on dry throats wet
from air-tight decks…
I wonder in curiosity
how skins touching each other’s loneliness
can remain on couches or hand-rests
without looking at each other’s eyes,
as if iodized by hinges
of phlegmatic gazes…alone,
with their screaming, screeching thoughts.
Inspiration from 'Tied To The Train Tacks'
Reimagine, Reinvent, Revamp Contest
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