Things You Get Used To

You can never get used

to the slap of the handicapped

accessible subway seat:

every single instance of

upward motion equals the

SLAP! 

of plastic on plastic hard love.

And you may get used to 

so many things in the city: 

being asked for a cigarette

on any errand you might be 

running, with some guys

hurt look following your

denial,

the rhythmic clanging of 

Walter's change cup at the corner

of Flatbush and Nostrand,

and the possibility that on

any god-given day of the unholy

week, you might find that

 

you, 

yes you,

have been vomited on by some unwitting fellow passenger who has just managed to get a little bit of motion sickness and, although they tried so hard to make it to the door between cars in order to spare everybody the pain of knowing that they were in a vomit care, it is, unfortunately rush hour and this is an express train between express stops so you know it's like shoving people out of the way, and he just doesn't manage to make it there.

But you get used to these things.

And you can even get used to the 

idea that you have to gently let

the set up so it doesn't slap, but

if you forget and that super-loud

SLAP!

happens in real-time.  

Fuggedaboudit.

You're a little scared.