Poetry: Subway by Eric Keizer

Poetry: Subway by Eric Keizer
July 1, 2017 No Comments » Featured Poetry and Shorts, OWS Features Eric Keizer

Subway

©June 2017 Eric Keizer

Electric worm,

Inwardly I smile, but only

Deep inside, otherwise,

They wonder if you’re crazy/dangerous.

Next stop, North Ave.

Gingerly I step inside,

Doors slam and suddenly,

Acrid, stale, “air conditioning”

Weakly cycles,

But damn,

It’s hot.

There’s sour sweat, sour beer, lingering vomit

Cologne and perfume

Disinfectant.

Next stop, Randolph St.

And sides of beef,

In Brooks Bros. 3 piecers

Or Chanel hang

In one armed salutes from leather straps,

As we merrily go rolling along

To slaughter houses, packing houses and

Faceless anonymity.

Light banks flicker, go dark

Predetermined gaps and time,

Disappears in starts and fits,

I feel sensory overload and deprivation,

And am keenly aware of strangers,

My body, my breath, my briefcase.

Next stop, Western Ave.

We roll and lurch and bump each other,

Thin smiles for passive acceptance

Of an inadvertent groping,

Under a guise of keeping balance,

And trying to remain upright.

But spindly legs wobble,

As this drunken nightcrawler sways,

Straining, groaning on ancient steel

And the weight of electro shock therapy.

Next stop, Austin Blvd.

We always make this wide loop,

Through Uptown, downtown,

the barrio,

the ghetto,

and eventually,

emerge blinded,

at Harlem Av,

Frank Lloyd Wright’s renowned town,

Fresh air and home.

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