The Commute
Inside the train
One hears the screech
Of wheels on rails
They try to breech
And the worried, hurried hum
Of men and women on the run
And if you out
The window gaze
You see and endless
Field of haze
And the distant, rushing cry
Of a world gone whizzing by
The wheels themselves
Can't hope to sway
They're guided by
The iron way
Choiceless, rolling through the foggy rot
Running where they won't dare not
Until bereft
Of locomotion
They dock beside
A concrete ocean
Where the sailors left among the dead
Tack to earn their daily bread
Quickly now
They leave the quay
As noise and chaos
Melt away
Save for the relentless screech
Of wheels on rails they try to breech
poem by Matt Greenblatt
Added by Poetry Lover
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