The damn clock is buzzing

Pigeons pecking sidewalks

Gray against black

People are  bustling on the subway

Standing packed on a Tuesday

The homeless stirring

A baby screaming

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Hands against poles, over bags

Their eyes are hazed with dreams

Work…

Tomorrow will be Wednesday

The ride home will be similar

Hands against poles, over bags

The dull blue seats warmed all day

The trains slipping through tunnels

Leaving tracks humming under towers

Hands against poles, over bags

It will always be “Show Time”

Work…

Tomorrow will be Wednesday

The ride home will be similar