Transportees

On those trips, 
did those standing learn balance 
inside the cars,
handle lurches, sudden starts, quicker stops?

 Did they learn to stand legs spread apart 
to balance tension
like boxers 
on the balls of their feet?

 Did they know death 
was the exile toward which they were heading,
sunset 
the inevitable conclusion?

 Even in sleep,
when sleep no longer mattered,
did they find peace
in repetition of habitual practice, 

 like seagulls climb
the repeating staircase of waves,
or like a child slide down
the memory of slick varnished rails: 

 at the end jump off,
trusting to promises made
as to what comes next?