DECEMBER 13

It came in on the right, heading
behind us, I think, and the slow
motivic movements of the train
second-guess us, our travel up
into a mistiness called rain, lit
from above us, leaving puddles
black

as pavement. Working out the real
and the symbolic, violence
and populism. Hum the left-out verse
of a song made kindergarten-
safe.

Warmed up feet and soft altos left,
chastise the crowd as we teem
as one with them, hurrying for seats
and a chaste corner, dry,
supportive.
The plastic falls out of the doors,
I've seen. Multiplied thousands,
hands miss by minutes
despite a common meanness.