___The Divide_

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Everybody's avoiding being bumped into
accidentally bumping into one another
on the edge of our eye

everyone balancing between
being seen and being seen seeing
between shins at the vents



and signs at the ceiling,
cris-crossing a scan of the divide
or dead panning the length of a ride
dead in our eye
intensify a pressure to put the breaks on
the neck on the knees' pardon me's



edgy seats rattling mute communiques
into the station roar in the face of, then
round platforms more of faces stuck,

into the next train to growl along
full of possom naps and graven bone, still,
before the peep that flees and ducks

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ToneAre