Train to work

Triple beep, repeat repeat.
Then post-hydraulic

Rollers slide
the doors, shut.
From beneath,
and atop

No cough,
or mechnical tut.
Just a bass note whirhum.

And an octave,
or maybe two, higher
an oddly warm,

Wheels turn,
oil slick

Spin begins
to slow, after a bit.
Tone drops to a new low,
barely audible.

Movement ceased.
A moment of still and peace,
before a hundred hurried feet.
And their elbows.

Photograph by Ubiquitous
Follow his page for excellent photos from Barcelona and elsewhere



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