You drowse in the rhythm of the
JR train’s click over the tracks
opening your eyes briefly as
the train hushes into another station.
more like forced meditation
on an icy morning than real sleep;
you draw out a long over due yawn as
Koizume Station drifts past.
With eyes now open,
green and alien to
the dominating browns
you watch for your stop
through the window.
A row of half sleeping Japanese,
faces tight as concrete, are
reflected back at you
in the window.
You wonder why the softness of a
child’s nap always eludes
them on the sleepy
late afternoon trains.