With dumb and droopy cattle-eyes,
they sit around and stand and wait;
they mill about in suits and ties;
they don't want to be late.
And then the train arrives at last;
they sigh and rush to get a seat;
they have to nimbly get on fast
or stay standing on their feet.
They pull out papers, magazines,
and calmly read them with a frown,
and to make sure they are not seen,
they do not put them down.
And they pretend they are alone,
create a wall around their space,
and then pretend their face is stone,
not part of the rat-race.
Their faces are so cold and bare,
so tough, so frigid and so hard,
as if their birthplace was Nowhere,
that left them ill and scarred.
They pierce each other with a glare
that seems to challenge a kind smile,
and so get back a stormy stare
that resonates a while.
And when at last, with great relief,
their journey shudders to an end,
they disembark just like a thief
that with the crowd must blend.