Poetry- Penn Station

t's 9 am and already the day is speeding to nowhere
like the trains in and out of penn station
always rushing but never actually going
back and forth
down the samee tracks
to the same stops
they race frantically
to maintain a schedule which tomorrow
will mean as much as the paper its printed on
nothing
people in offices are like the trains at penn station
they hurry about their tasks rushing to maintain a schedule
which will change tomorrow
why do we rush
what inflated notion of self importance
makes us truly believe that sorting the mail is urgent
could it be that same notion that keeps the trains at penn station speeding to nowhere
filled with office workers
the same office workers who once safely delivered to their destinations
will in turn become trains themselves
miniatures of those desperately racing in and out of penn station
a never ending race to nothing