The Commuter

The Commuter

Blank faces in a streaming crowd,
Bodies steeled with grim resolve,
They surge down cold, stark stairways,
Powerful as the black light
Of an imploded quasar.
Down to the bromine-lit flatlands,
Endlessly pacing the concrete roads,
Repeatedly reading the tattered wall-posters;
Solid fear forming in their minds
As the long, metal monster approaches.

An electronic roar shatters the expectant silence;
Then, robot-like, the commuter forces himself into the metallic jaws,
Surrounded by unmoving zombies
Evading each other’s eyes with unconscious skill,
Awaiting release from their shared nightmare:
An interminable journey through hell in motion.

When he reaches his journey’s end
The commuter snatches back his soul
From his inhuman impostor,
Living on borrowed time till evening.