Q

Neck, U, got an ear for Canal,
Mixed in with the crowd,
Every face a mysterious shroud,
Talk aloud at either end of the car,
Babel between the car,
Every accent, every affect,
Erring gallantry to a mother turning down,
Every house we fail to see on the line.

Engineering feats compiled upon each other,
Every cabled metal box in their tons,
The electricity that lights each one,
On tracks from end to end upon which all these trains run,
This sum total ignored by the unwondering passengers,
More concerned with their papers and phones, causeless conversation.

And I’m not much better,
My mind and heart a million miles away in the desert,
Wondering at what adventures she has,
Because she progresses and I’m just restless,
She expresses and I’m reflective,
Stuck in taking stock,
Still aching from the shock,
Slings and arrows suffered and still aching to oppose them.

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