Reflected hard in the subway windows at night
vacant, hunched figures propel homeward.
How many times do I gaze out
only to be met with the downturned faces of those inside
bathed in the same yellow light.
I, too, illuminated
in all of my losses – count them,
try to make out their shapes in the bag clutched tight in my lap.
I feel the drag of my weight along the rail, howling,
and still, I look out.
Capital Line
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