Thursday, February 07, 2008

wednesday 06 feb (morning)

the station disgorges its huddled masses
into the predawn unpleasantness
of course it's frigid
(i wonder whether eskimos have
23 different words for cold)

these strivers are strangers to me
my usual chugging by
at a much more humane time
weary, still undercaffienated
they trudge toward the approaching light
our early morning foreshadowing
the end of days

“they’re calling for eight to twelve inches today”
rumbles the baritone, a man
genetically and jovially predisposed
to latitudes much further north

the announcement shakes
my new associates and i
from our lumbering slumber
a groan of discomfort mutually expected
emanating from our midst
all for one
and one for all

we’re awake now (or less asleep)
as the screeching smell of asbestos
escalates sensory input
beyond the background noise of a tired mind
and we realize
the train is here

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