In the train,
do you wonder,
how many people you pass,
do you consider of how many frames their life would be,
if numbered in still photographs,
and, of their experiences,
what of these,
and how many of their days would be filled with activity,
and of those not,
and how many of their days would be happy and sad,
and how many,
best forgot,
and if the photographs,
of their lives were falling through the air,
and you could catch them,
and you were magically able to live as them,
and experience the experience contained within,
would you feel the same emotions,
and wish away,
your previous life to take up theirs?
And would you lose your memory,
your family,
and your friends?
And would you dress in their clothes,
with their thoughts now inside your brain,
and would you carry on,
with no thoughts of your previous life,
playing havoc with your head,
and with,
about which nothing to complain?