Commuted

zipper teeth
chewing each other,
assembly line fashion,
down the race track
and back,
like dogs at the track
chasing a faux fur mitten
between the warmth and the cold,
while the seconds tick by
and crowds
commingle
at the platform edge
to the soundtrack of:
a wind tunnel hissing scream
made of steel and iron,
to the soundtrack of:
inaudible announcements
parted by coughs and conversations
and someone screaming on a cellphone,
until the too tired doors
finally stand still
and finally open wide,
chewing them all up
like slick blackened bubblegum
embedded
in the concrete floors.