Com-mut-ed

fogDarkness of motion
searches for the ticket-free berth
amidst the fog and flashing red lights.

Covered stilettos,
masked faces,
steam rising from a pulled cap
stare to the sandy concrete
straight ahead

The digital light from fingertips
startle to the call of frenzied movement,
only to end up pressed against a wooly
mass of flesh pushing its way into unwelcome space.

Compressed search for dignity,
attempting to occupy another space and time.

Until the moment of fresh air and freedom
of escape
into a teeming sea of humanity
with destinations in mind.

Not sight,
Body, not Spirit
Known, but not known.

Cessation of intake until the tossed cigarette is behind,
stench carried the opposite way

Upward
snatches of clear blue
piercing through the steel and glass

Absorbed by the glass
to a sky of florescent

Uncloaking,
settling in
fingers at the ready
as eyes peruse the screen,
the page, the day.

Wondering if the blue or fog will appear
before the darkness
on the journey back.

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