Transit minds.

On the train with myself and lonesome
the paltry hour drifts as I sip at forgetfulness, laziness.
The conductor in the worn suit slips me a ticket and jets away
his daft hand assists the other passengers, accepting money for a ride to their fantasies.
And as I watch this
I question.
Pondering about the impeding seats between souls.
The barriers of the train, so closely resembling society.

The hard knocks, the smelling salts we call catastrophes.
Why do we wait for dire straits to act?
Situations that call for action.
Nothing happens until the situation arises.

So us lovers, time wasters, we fumble along on this train of fearless antiquity.
Telling ourselves that this moment, this existential period, is but a facet.
That things will get better.
That our lives will change after we depart from our seats on the train.