I roar past
Ghosts
Old bones
Rats
Through centuries
Of Exhalation
Cubes of light
Become the semaphore
Of locomotion
Tunnels of tile
Are running ellipses
I examine silhouettes
Divine the auras
Of commuters
Read the same ads
Over and over:
Mantras that move
We all
Bow our heads
In prayer for each other
And sway in unison
To the screeching song
Of the iron choir
We ask
For the safe arrival
The timely departure
The peaceful ride
Toward the next ride
And the next
And the next
--Mr. Gobley
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