Morning commute

The coffee sits warm in my belly,
its taste lingers in my mouth;
the edge of my notebook
sharp in the crease of my left thumb,
my right thumb and forefinger
feel the cylindrical joint of hard and soft plastic
as ink flows smoothly between lines.

Too many words …
a sweet thought of decluttering,
a recorded voice announces the next station (not mine),
and sunlight covers my page.

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