Commuters

The MRT species of humans, much like apes

What we once were, swinging, alternating between

Handrails navigating a compressed jungle.

Another species, those running late,

Running across the bridge

No idea when the train was arriving, like

A spinning top wobbling above and around its

Line of balance, legs cutting across

Shaky, the top losing balance before it stops.

Another, those awkward people of different

Wavelengths. The man, no one to his left

Or right, stood guarding the exit. Excuse me.

He tried to move his grounded foot with his arms

Outstretched, bouncing left and right uncertainly.

A goal keeper, as if he was

Trying to block my path.