In Transit
You drowse in the rhythm of the
JR train's click
over the tracks
opening your eyes briefly as
the train hushes
into another station.
This half-consciousness,
more like forced meditation
on an icy morning
than real sleep;
you draw out a long over
due yawn as
Koizume Station drifts past.
With eyes now open,
green and alien to
the dominating browns
you watch for your stop
through the window.
A row of half sleeping Japanese,
faces tight as concrete, are
reflected back at you
in the window.
You wonder why the softness of a
child's nap always alludes
them on the sleepy
late afternoon trains.
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