Transit

On the train
I thought of the coming
funeral for the day
spent, although
it had not yet begun.

In the distance she
descended the staircase,
so that the day
could begin officially,
for the officials were polishing
their pocket watches,
and bald heads
as the shoe shine
boys fell in
love with the dream
of a thunderstorm
on a humid day.

I crossed the street
with its burdens
looking for
Joseph of Aramethea
to make his way out
of the crowd.
I have a tomb
to give you
with around the clock
guards. They're a diligent
bunch, although on occasion
they've been known to descend into
boredom
as they wait
for the mourning to end,
and the roar of thunder
to rip open the skies.