From my diversion car I watch the unhappiness capsules pass.
On tracks predicted, on time scheduled.
Northbound to cold homes, where twitterglows seep under doors.
Slump to sigh, the droolers are lost in their forgotten epiphanies.
On their iron ruts, they thunderumble past shrouded windows, pulled against shame and judgement.
Where are we today? No map can pin us, untrackable behind our mirror windshields.
We're off the grid we groomed, lost in a late understanding.
Too far gone to reconcile belief, there's no incense that will hold me now. The fictioned burdens dissolve, an ooze of disappointment, as I slip backwards. And down.