I overheard a rider:

“We’re nightfish

Fast. Hungry.”

We spill our tank at each stop

And when it gets late, you know, this late -

We don’t replenish.

I wanted to call us mannequins

That one sits. This one stands. Casual, tall. Still.

Nobody swims.

We were a little alive, a little lifeless.

Small chatter, long stares.

Finding floors and corners

No faces interjecting

Maybe “fish” was right.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen one

Look me in the eye.