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10:46 to Oxford

We toss up our knees in hurried fashion.

Scramble into a tight carriage.

I remember jokes about mackerel.

It is a close fit in the flexible joint of the train;

It is a good thing we care for each other.


We don't wriggle around as much as I had anticipated.

The train shoots in a straight line towards Oxford at 10:46 AM.

I want to have my coffee, but I am standing next to

The sliding doors of the carriage toilets.

Oh, well.


I stuff an earphone into my left ear; wiggle the tragus piercing out of the way.

Listen to songs I enjoy humming to.

Play alphabet games with my friends to pass the time.

Sometimes the train stops, and we hope people will file out.

They never do.


Then, without really noticing, we're inside of Oxford,

Now stepping off the crowded train.


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