Rain poured in bunches, quickening
Acacias that needed no quickening
Once in the train seat I cogitate on
A fevered awareness in skin-pores
A youth talks over his chicken-rice.
Aliveness eats the recent aliveness,
I withdraw in pretended disinterest
And submit to forced somnolence.
I let eyelids fall softly and unaware
In a gradual ceasing of being alive
Like that piece of a once-aliveness
Unkicking against an alive stomach.
A griping baby howls its awareness
Thick curtains fall over train berth.
Today and I have both ceased.