my first trip (on the D train)
by Nick Krasnic
Dwellers dwindle in a dungeon of dark tunnels.
Dampness engulfs.
Detachments of desperate faces flicker past like a silver
strip of film.
Iron doughnuts screech into the sounding call of an
elephant's trumpet.
Pause, as people baby step beyond boot marks
stained into the yellow border.
Discover an empty seat,
like the treat of a rewarded child.
Then, the masses, like ants on parade,
plow through the pile of flesh
as double doors slam shut behind them.
Open palms grasp for a sense of steadiness.
Firm grips grab poles.
Heavy hands hold handles.
Denied distance dares bodies to rub against another,
like a human washing machine with an oversized, dirty
load.
The instant jerk throws a boy off balance.
A blanket of awkward silence
marinates above several dozen droopy heads
while a familiar tune whispers from a walkman
in the rear of the rail car.
Claustrophobia becomes common symptom
confronted with the lukewarm breath of a stranger
moistening the napes of necks.
Saggy skin sways from an obese woman's arm overhead
as sweat seeps through dew drenched pits.
Bulging biceps of a black man in a muscle shirt
intrude spared space.
His cold glare fixates in a book as he
meditates on the message from his master
Mohammed.
Dialect from a Hasidic Jew in private prayer attracts
curious stares.
A sleeping Spaniard struggles
to keep the sandbag on his neck from resting on his
neighbor's shoulders.
A young Asian Elvis fan
combs an overtly exaggerated pompadour hairdo.
The old man across, with wrinkled brow and toothless
gums,
argues with himself about whether or not he
died in a dream.
This scraggly fellow bellows for a dollar.
Obliged, I give him two.
Such a kindhearted gesture provides self-satisfaction of
karmic delight.
Suddenly, a predestined sense of impending
doom.
Damn, I just missed my stop. |
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Strap Hanger
by RJ Clarken
I held onto the strap
which wasn't a strap so much as a
shiny metal loop.
Outwardly, I showed
a kind of casual consciousness
that belied my holding on
as if for dear life.
I held onto the strap,
a face in the midst of many other faces.
Some chatted with friends.
Some stared at the ads.
Most avoided all the other faces,
just wanting to go home
and probably holding on for dear life, too.
I held onto the strap
as the homeless man
followed his scent into the car.
He said he was a veteran
and he suffered, "From Agent Orange,
or maybe it was Agent Purple or Green -
well, one of those colors, anyway."
And he wanted some money
just to go away.
I held onto the strap,
glad for something to do
with my hands
other than search my purse
for loose change.
I felt a bit guilty
but I stared at the ads
(and avoided the other faces)
wishing /he would/ just go away.
I held onto the strap
as the train lurched into a station -
not my station -
as some other strap hanger faces
tried to shove their way out the door.
I wished it were my station,
but I still had five to go.
I held onto the strap
as I heard EnglishRussianSpanish
and some pepper-spoken tongues I couldn't figure out,
all mixing it up in that rapid-fire word tunnel,
which was partially drowned out by trainscreech.
I held onto the strap
and wished I could say a prayer -
but I don't pray.
I didn't feel guilty -
maybe only disappointed,
but I'm not really sure.
I held onto the strap.
I tried to think of a place
far from that tarnished silver tube
which bore me home,
far from the claustrophobic walls
of my cranky deadlines,
far from the lingering reality
of that orange or purple or green homeless man,
and also,
far from that small, homely place
where my cash-strapped self slept and ate.
I let go of the strap
as the doors finally separated
at my stop,
revealing a cement platform
for Fox's latest reality show,
cheap flights to London,
sworn-to-be-honest candidates
and scientifically healthy dog food -
and I disembarked.
I hitched up the strap
of my shoulder bag
higher up on my shoulder
and walked into the silvery twilight.
No star seemed even slightly tarnished
which made me grateful
in a way I can't explain.
I walked along the sidewalk
artistically decorated
with purple and green and orange chewing gum.
I was almost home.
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