no one is human on the Metro
There is a race to get to the turnstile
Two young men jump over
A guard yells “hey” but no one leaps to follow them
I meet a stranger’s eye
We both smile but not in a wide way
Young women in tennis shoes
Running to catch a five thirty train
I figure they are running home to cook
After sitting at desks all day
Staring out windows at people they think are more alive
They pile into the cars
Sitting upright like stiff spools of thread
No one speaking
If someone does
The others stare, glare or ignore
No one is human on the metro
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2024
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