Transit

by sentimentalsurrealist

In another of my
nocturnal ramblings
the last ashes of my
I-mean-it-this-time
last cigarette
falling

       down  

            my coat… 

In a crowd
of strangers
in a basement
my only company
and comfort the smell
of my cheap food…

In a Chinese restaurant
ran by the great-granddaughter
of a man who worked
the railroads so his
great-granddaughter
could do more
than run a restaurant…

In a kiosk
glass walls spattered with 
promises and
threats
threats and
promises
of generations past…

In a library
a universe of knowledge
and opinion
left to dust…

It grabs me
by the shoulder
and I
can’t shake it.

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