On the first day back
you can still feel
the long wet gears switching
over and changing up.
See glints of glass in truck tyres
turning over and over,
nailing the asphalt with
every circuit. People moving
as though choreographed
in a dance where everyone
dances alone
until they suddenly lock step
and everyone in the crowd
sings the same song.

But after the first day
the holiday shrinks down to
the size of your suit,
and you realize how small
and fast your daily orbit is.
Trains become silent insects
pacing dead leaves, never
standing long enough to say

I am the man on the edge
of the platform who might be
timing a jump, or merely
timing a train. I live my vacation
deep in my bones. There’s coffee
with fresh cream, if you want it.