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.

This half-consciousness,
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.