Tokyo Train

by Steve Cavin

The Tokyo train

Is running late.

She sits, half asleep,

Her edge worn, and dull,

A face with no expression.


On the other side

The Korean bachelor,

From time to time,

Steals a glance,

Then looks at his watch.


The Tokyo train

Is running late.

She no longer remembers,

Or tries to forget,

Why she is here.


The fresh young women,

Firm, smooth flesh.

High boots, stockings,

And short, short skirts,

Stride confidently to their seats.





The Tokyo train

Is running late.

It's been running late for years.

A dying race. a fading culture,

Shuffles to extinction.


So buoyant their voices

Chirping echoes in the tunnels.

Half asleep, and half-awake

They sway and nod,

Waiting for their stop.