I walk up the stairs.
Squished Skittle on the floor.
Then, I am like that hard shelled
Yellow fruit chew elbow to elbow
On the 7.
Onward to Manhattan.
At Hunter’s Point the view of
Tagged-up roof tops vanish.
In a Tunnel.
The woman next to me is seated.
Her bags are nestled beside her.
I cannot sit.
I hate her.
The man across from her seems
Enthralled by his phone screen.
Ladies and Gentlemen we are delayed due to train traffic ahead of us.
If there is one track
And all the trains are going
Along it, then how can there be
Traffic if they just kept moving?
42nd Street, Bryant Park.
There is a florist shop here.
Do people buy flowers often anymore?
Moreover in the subway?
I ponder as I walk up more stairs.
Smushed Starburst on the sidewalk.
Candy thoughts get interrupted by a
Realization that there was blood shed
On the Pond not two days ago.