Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Poem VI Part II

The trains glide so cleverly
The conductors must be magicians
Two trains meet at the track
All while not crashing into one another
Tracks laid down like puzzle pieces
Carefully placed, calculating every single space
Graffiti lines the walls, brands and tags
Of this Underground museum
Art on display
Artists of the jungle
Underground world hidden beneath the surface
Hobos seek refuge from the brutality outside
Riding carts become cubbies
Wooden benches their mattresses
Stations their rooms
Subway maps their wallpaper
Train announcements their alarm clocks
“Stand clear of the closing doors please”
“The next stop is…”
This house constantly moves
The inhabitants nomads
Awakened by the sudden jerking motion
Gliding over land, and sea
Connected by bridges to each borough
Transport requires such coordination
Yet elevators still reek of urination

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