My god,
he says as the train hurdles past
a hundred other men standing just like him
looking out from behind the panes of glass
or maybe staring in, he can't tell
average height, average weight
average hair and skin
middle aged and middle class
one is the same and one is different
not that anyone could tell
behind them stretch even more
families, loved ones, parallel stories
a wife, a husband, a daughter, a son
interchangeable characters in a repetitive song
we speak their stories, we call their names
originality has died a quiet death
when one disappears, another comes
a replacement that steps in silently
the men and women speak the same words
at a different rhythm speak the children
in the end, undistinguished
nothing worth remembering
every man looking from the same viewpoint
through a differing pane
they see the same results
and say the same words
My god,
he says,
Equality at last