On a Downtown Train

On a downtown train,
somewhere around midnight
she sits,
reflected in the window
across the car.
Gel-slicked hair
and a leather jacket,
the last remnants
of a Brooklyn girl.

with three small step-stair
boys in baseball caps,
hands valliantly shoved
into windbreaker pockets,
toppled
like dominos
onto her lap.

Summer Under City

In steel worm's lair
We wait,
And sweat;
This oozing buffet
Of humanity.

Next Stop

Waiting impatiently for the subway to depart from the confines of the abyss
and plunge into the open daylight,
Making the transition from "under" the ground to "above" the ground.
Like the difference between HELL and HEAVEN.
Knowing my stop is the first stop after leaving the blackness,
Knowing that in mere seconds I will again see the sun after
an eternity spent sitting in this dirty subway car with its
stagnant and oppressive air with all these depressed souls
dressed in grey with their hollow eyes.
With their EMPTY looks.
With their music blasting.
With their ragged books.
I,
with my attention focused solely on the windows.
Waiting