Train

While racing to catch the inbound 7:25,
I thought I saw Brian slouched
over a Globe on the outbound subway platform — you know,
that certain type of shirt, flash
of facial hair, unique shoulder movement.
He didn’t look up and it was too far to call out,
but I looked back in time
to see drop-forged wheels rush forward,
splintering our fragile
dichotomies
of karma.

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