sound and motion

the tram spills out onto a street swarm of strangers streaming silent screams for something more than what’s within reach. I jump to join them and chase brief relief in the surrender of this paper-thin identity to a fluid mass of skin and cotton. we wait at the crossing for the flashing green man but I need not look for him or anything beyond the pavement beneath a pair of shoes I should replace. my movement follows someone else’s in the crowd. sound and motion somewhere. what joy to be excused from myself.