We are
silent,
sharing transportation.
A destination to one meek schedule.
An unintentional stare
may make someone move.
It’s not like I like you.
You’re standing in my
view,
just another object in
the panoramic scene.
My head turns another direction,
another tree, building, bush, cemetery, or train.
The Zombies next to me
stare straight,
careful not to turn to their neighbor.
That’s disrespectful.
We strain ourselves
to squeeze into the
imaginary boundary of these plastic seats.
Do not touch each other!
Do not touch me…
Don’t touch me!
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