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