“Train Stations and Reparations”
Young man! Young man!
Entering the train.
Play me a song of a piano man.
Is it possible to turn up the volume?
The folks in the first car can’t hear your portable speaker.
Even though, we all can on this car.
I’ve never witnessed such impotent rage.
Collected and strained.
The old gent across, can barely escape.
Do you think it strange, Mr. No Name?
Assigning full blame, to patrons of trains.
Systemic lines, were built long ago, before we stepped on.
That old gent across, he wants to slap that music from your hand.
He wants to engage, filter rage.
And assuage, his gaining discomfort.
But, he is afraid.
He will go home and scream at his wife, instead.
You, are a threatening phantom to his mind.
A dementor ‘neath a hoodie.
You are nothing but a representation of something else, to him.
Your pain exists, but is veiled in your contempt.
Speaker speaking volumes.
Falls on deaf ears, angers and stokes fears.
Deafening apathy, perturbed by your attempt to be, heard.
Exceeding socially acceptable limits?
Its rather rude, guy.
Some eat hardboiled eggs.
Some clip their toenails.
But you choose to share misogyny and N-bombs.
Riding the rails.
No one, says nothing.
That, says everything
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