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Climbed down from the train,

Its belly rumbling still

Like a malnourished child,

Walked the cold concrete

Past blank-faced waiting rooms

And story touting kiosks,

Felt his ascension,

His automated feet,

Lift him from the darkened bowel,

Toward light’s promise

The canopy of glass

Which hung like disease over him,

Eyes undistracted

By neon’s garish glow

Temptation’s hollow promise,

Out into the day;

Sun that sliced the high-rise

Like a dulled uneasy blade,

Tracers on the floor,

An impermanent guide,

Swallowed by shadow’s silence,

Mind stilled to motion,

Following his footsteps

A slave to destination,

Beyond the concrete,

Where houses looked the same,

Dead-eyed and slowly fading,

He made his way again.