Metamorphosis

We breathe recycled air- 

our neighbor's breath, 

once as dear to this stranger as his blood, 

now pinks the blue in our veins. 

We sit at attention, 

clutching magazines 

and greasy fast food bags, 

fussing with gum wrappers 

and someone else's headphones,

staring at our future. 

Our cocoon, 

400 tons of metal, 

wraps around us:

a newborn tightly swaddled. 

When we emerge 

we will be new creatures

in a new place, 

with someone else's oxygen 

in our lungs.