The subway and me are committed. I cry when it’s shut down. I eat with it when its late, I’m hungry, and not too many people are around. I cried with it coming home from The Flick when my Nana died. And it cried too. Whishing through the tunnels, under the river, heading to Brooklyn going so fast my ears popped.
The subway and me are committed. I worry about it when no ones in the car, it smells, and there’s only one homeless person sleeping. I’m pissed at it when it keeps me trapped between stations black and silent and suffocating – it knows when I’m having a bad day. It knows when I’m having a bad day so bad it runs away from me when I’m a second too late. It bruises me jumping the turnstile and sends a cop to give me a one hundred dollar ticket for being so bad and so poor.
The subway and me are committed. It’s funny. It shuts its doors right before my eyes and laughs slowly riding off to start its day before me. It knows exactly when I’m tired, can’t stand a single second longer, so it fills itself with people giving me nowhere to sit. It wants me to suffer. Why? So I should learn a lesson, I guess. Don’t be so lazy. Don’t be so tired, you’re in New York.
The subway and me are committed. I left it for a year and when I returned it squished me between its doors and made me pry. I left it for a year and when I returned it filled to the brim and made me tell an old man to go fuck himself because he couldn’t stand the space me and my suitcase were taking up (Where would you like me to go asshole!). When I’m having a good day, it’s always on time. There’s always a seat. I try not to have so many bad days.
The subway and me are committed. When it’s feeling romantic there’s always someone playing jazz or flipping around or begging me for money I don't have. It never lets me drink and drive or get stuck in traffic. It’s clingy, I wrote down my number for a stranger once, he never called, I blame the subway. I piss it off, it makes me miss my stop by one and that one stop takes me to Manhattan which fucks my journey up by 30+ minutes and then theres five million people at the station also trying to go to Brooklyn and now you'll never get a seat it's rush hour and you missed your chance by missing your damn stop. But it lets me listen to music, or pretend to so I can hear strangers talk privately about their days or weeks and months go by, and I try not to have so many bad days on the subway because in the end, I always make it to where I’m going, eventually.
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