Catching the train from South to North,
I notice the conversation had by two drivers on the platform.
Yesterday this very train took the head
off a man who had had enough.
He laid on the track
and the metal wheels acted like hot knives.
I sit in my first class seat
and read the kings and queens of words.
What bite do these printed thoughts have
compared to the weight and steel of life?
But still, this book does more kindness to me
than the train did for him.
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