Get to Work

The train screeches in its iron groove.
It makes an incomprehensible music.

It emerges from a soot stained tunnel
into the twilight of fluorescent light.

The doors open. The sudden noise of people
and then a cacophony of billboards.

A flurry of bodies drift through a forest
of turnstiles into a concrete meadow.

Pigeons scatter as rubber soled feet
move swiftly towards a dead escalator.

Pedestrians clog the crosswalk. They shuffle
into the lonely nowhere of the office.

Amidst the maze of beige two people stop to chat.
They linger. A stream forms around them.

Sunlight in the window. Buttercups in the yard.
A phone vibrates. An awkward glance at a screen.

A din rumbles in their minds. They tilt away,
slip apart. Two boats in a stream.