trapped in rushing
subway crowds
being piled in with
others, rushing to get
there, and creeping
through underground
tunnels at a crawl--
knowing you could
almost walk that
fast if you were on
the surface, but not
being able to do
anything about
it.
One last time
watching central
park crazies
in their variety
of activities: hula
hooping, roller
skating, sunning,
running, contemplating,
painting, chilling
and they are
so peaceful-given
the shitstorm
that is their
life, and just for
a moment
the reality of money
is called into question.
The pain their life
seems mitigated (for
now), and things are
going to be all right...
finally.
One last time
at Union Square
catching the
Four/Five and
having to cover
your ears as
it makes the
turn into the station
because the
whine of steel
stopping thousands of
pounds of
steel can cause
you to wince and
hurt in ways
you didn't know were
possible, in ways you
hadn't in your wildest
fantasies imagined as
even resembling a thing
that was remotely even
possible.
One last time.
One last time.
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