Subway (not the sandwich)

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub – Wheels of Steel (posted by Bjorn)
“Trains can be waiting for delayed commuter-trains, it can be the drunkard trying to strike up a conversation. It could be what you see outside your window.

Trains are meetings and partings Like Rick, leaving Paris, alone in Casablanca.”

Subway (not the sandwich)

Standing on the platform waiting
for another train, one that will not
bring on a claustrophobic
sweat. Waiting. Waiting.
A musician plays blues
on his horn. If you stop
to listen, at least fold
a dollar or throw
some coins into his jar.
Far down the platform,
kids are fighting, mother
trying to get them away
from the edge. On an 85℉
day, expect the temperature
to be 100℉. Oh no! An
announcement is being
broadcast. Possible
delays, or weather conditions, or
world peace. Who knows?
You hear only degrees
of static.

Here’s the train! Why is one
car nearly empty, and others
packed? Ah, broken air-conditioning.
If you are fortunate and get
an air-conditioned car, do not think
for a moment that you will
get a seat as well. Hell, this is
the Subway.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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5 Responses to Subway (not the sandwich)

  1. Ha.. Yes being packed in transportation like that can be hellish.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. lynn__ says:

    I liked the music but… give me the sandwich 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  3. whimsygizmo says:

    I like this stream of conscious feel, very much.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. says:

    I prefer the sandwich


Comments are closed.