In their wool blend suits

And Primani boots

Crusaders on a mission  

Like jockeys before the National

They jostle for position

As the 7:22 snakes into view

They anticipate her breaks

She grinds unto a squeaking halt

Before the incumbents make their escape

Hands in pockets lined in pockets

Aligned to the doors

They brace and embrace the putrid heat

Swim toward a ...

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