The Montreal Tunnel Poem by Preston Simmons

The Montreal Tunnel

Iron whispers on steel,
And everything else
Is silent
For a second,
As people board the subway.
The people stand and stare,
Searching for something to think of
To pass their time in grouped isolation.
We are all standing here together,
But no one is together
In their thoughts.
We all travel separately,
In individual cars,
Driven by the engine
Of existence.

There are lights which seem to move
Outside the windows,
Fixtures that are in their own position,
Blurred in my vision.
You'd think the subway would be peaceful,
A time to ponder,
Listening to the melodic hum of the wheels on steel.
Instead, advertisements flow out of speakers,
Crawling into the minds of the passengers.
Some are in English,
Most are in French.
If only my grandma were here
To translate.
The train rolls to a silent stop,
And all of us exit
Out into the noise,
The neon billboards and glowing ads
Are always directly in our line of sight.

Out where I live,
The sun is the only moving light,
And everything is silent.