Elan Muldrow is an amazingly good poet!
Who is the ghost that walks the train?
The apparition tugs on our shirt sleeves
But all rides are displaced
We are logged into otherness,
Our faces dug deep into ourselves
Reflections fed to us
Wires from out our ears
Wi-Fi, stuck in our gut
Download speeds of the central nervous system.
Our spines reverberate myriads of chatter.
A silent rustle, instilling itself
Convincing us without us ever knowing
How important we are compared to
All other representations of knowing
While we are in the midst of knowing.
It’s called automatic updates
The train moves automatically
We are in a moving bubble…..and
From the windows see sprawl
Hurling past us………………tame trees
Surly lawns, hybrid bushes
Dotted between office buildings
Who give out loans, advice, and massages,
Fast food made to look like good food
Good food made to look like fast food
We look to make it home…
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