I join the same queue in a different position,
riding the same train with a different driver,
the same track and destination, different day.
The man beside me is sometimes in front of me
or across from me denying the morning its gravitas
while swaying to the same rumbling sway
over the same iron one day older than yesterday.
I count the same breaths, tap the same floor
with the tip of a different toe of a different leg
having travelled one day farther than yesterday.



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