London Trams

They are silent and they scare me.
They pick me up and carry me, unsteady.
I grasp for metal-cold reassurance.
Brace myself.
Knuckles whiten.

We move as one;
Seemless on tracks.
Surrounded by them–
Encased in them–
I am not part of them.

Destinations pass unnoticed.
Others alight whilst I,
Journeying stationary,
Like ash in slow smoke.

Grip loosens and I stumble–
I do not fall–
But I stumble.

I rebalance;

We travel together.
Neither one of us drives.


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