stunned sad
by my own reflection
caught among the commuter herd
going from bed to desk to death
mindspace cluttered
with petty matters
paid to pretend to care
somewhere lost
buried by the worry-lined face
is the slap-happy poet
who lived for twilight wine
and laughed
under pink
sunset skies
rage in the transit cage
but vow
somehow
to find this person
again
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