Silence is that moment just before the brakes sing
and a 1000 New Yorkers check the side of the car
for a view of that all too familiar sadist,
that thief of moisture,
of comfort just left behind.
Just waiting for it's moment in the sun,
waiting for the skin it will cling to.
Waiting to whisper the smell of summer in the subway
into tired, non-consensual vessels straining to escape.
That view of weeping white walls desperate for a touch,
yes, the slivery touch of sensual air it craves so much.
New York commuters stare but do not see these walls.
They do not hear the wail of shadows rejected.
Run for your life, for dark solitude smothers love.
The wails of the tunnels are not meant for us.
That moment of silence strains to be heard
before it echoes the rhythm of another F train
rambling on to Jamaica.
Author notes
Maybe just a few random thoughts while riding the subway on a humid summer's day. Strange what comes up!
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Though I've never had the experience I can just image how lonely I'd feel admist the hustle and bustle of indifference. You've captured the essence of that moment well.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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NYC subway an adventure and the heat can be amazing, the tunnels are relics of an earlier time, the sounds, press of people yes, you have captured an essence here, the dense platforms and the trains flying through tunnels, old white tiles...very well done...PK
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