riding the train while writing

the simultaneous movement of fingers 

hunting and pecking 

words

on the phone

no writing pad

candlelight quills dipped in ink

nothing fancy about this writing desk or station

no artsy cafe ambiance

no comfy chair

the incantation comes from the glow of the screen 

through smeared vaguely transparent windows

city hearts

city surroundings

veins connecting cities together

running alongside red black yellow white streaming lights 

highway curves and bends with the tracks

they are transit dance partners

warehouses of boxes that look like boxes

storage 

more storage for all the stuff

containers 

and the blinking lights and flashes

this is the beauty of the commute

when the day is done

when the day is beginning 

inspiration comes from a spark

type it out 

fast as you can 

before you come to your stop

this is my stop

and you post it on the bulletin board of the internet

unsexy board covered with scraps of paper

punctured holes from all the posts

push pins with bent points

the tendency to get lost in this shuffle is easy

and yet there is something freeing about that

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