I scuff my sneakers on the sidewalks glancing sideways
at commuters and their habits
stock-still from rusted bench to the same speckled train seat to the same stained coffee cup
settled gently on tired laps
same crosswords to turn the gears then – look! the tired frayed split ends & split
jeans of the “wild crowd” – 3 of them huddled in the corner,
the remains of the dawn’s crack
and boom of mics and plastic beer pushed hastily into
cups and glowsticks into
back pockets, the poetry of the worker clashing with the night rave.
We are awash in threadbare floors
that thousands of footsteps caught and dragged the morning out into the ever-
repetitive path
we crave this
it is so old and tired and we crave it
even our glowticks are
fading
changing from neon green and pink
to traffic cone orange
gray pigeoned collars
and scuffed sneakers
seamless changes of building to street speed by
drinking it in blindly, getting our
fix of the day
from stop to seat to the same stained coffee cup