Monday, October 5, 2009

Subway Poem 2

Night was a crocus
Now day
Slick and shiny
And miles away

I keep thinking
Someone will use
All this space to dance

The woman beside me
Smells like hair gel and syrup
And I can feel a mamba
In the knock of her elbow on mine

And you, sir, across from me
With those fancy black lace-ups,
You want to dance too, don't you?

And the whole train says...
5, 6, 7, 8
Let's all dance
Don't mind if we're late!

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