Here I sit upon this train
As if again inside a dream.
Same people, same smell, same unknown stain.
Everything as it was or so it would seem.
Outside a shattered cityscape flickers by,
A million metal mountains that hold us all.
They reach, as we reach, toward the sky;
And we, not them are more apt to fall.
Something cold takes hold of my brow,
Returning me tersely to the present.
I fell asleep against the window somehow.
A pillow or porcupine might’ve been more pleasant.
I guess I dozed off when I got on.
And now my wallet and phone are gone.
