Jan Sand (February 2 1926 / USA)
One stares most carefully
At no one...
At the spaces between the faces
Where the gaze must graze
On rivet heads and ads,
Summonses to college grads
And then shift down to shoes,
To socks, to toes of those
Who paint the nails bright rose
Or pearl or pink. Time now to think,
To let the mind thunder through dark tunnels
To the past where paths diverge.
Perceptions of events flash by.
Stations in an express run.
Things one did or must be done.
Bleached memories venture out
With blinking eyes,
Rock gently with the subway car.
Irrelevant, one sees in surprise,
With things the way they are.
Their past energies diluted
Feelings enfeebled, muted.
Vital signs in their designs
No longer of significance,
They have lost all relation,
Then the jolt breaks the trance.
You are at your station.
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