Ruler marks across the country
scribbled lives and pencilled-in
faces, adjoining places
with families and names they don’t know.
They’ll just pass them through the window.
A snap-shot, no, scrapbook,
just quick visions of insight into
The clothes they wear, suitcase or phone
a face without a
A smile is enough. No longer alone. They too
rely on the tracks,
the vibrations move through them.
We share the seats of strangers
suffocated by fumes and breaths
if no seats are free, free-
falling through the day to day.
Friday is Monday, of places you’ve passed
Not friends, strangers. Mutual lives
waiting for the