Myrtle and Wycoff.
Inside there are mothers
And fathers
Pushing strollers.
The movement of the car is steady and rocks
Everyone
To the same rhythm.
Somewhere
In this organized maze
A heart is beating.
It propels us through
The veins,
Through Dekalb
And Jefferson,
Morgan and
Montrose.
By Grand st.
The car is packed
And an idiot with a
Black hat
And a throwback, baggy polo shirt
Won’t close his legs.
I don’t get to sit.
Graham, then
Lorimer comes.
There is an exodus
That is then replaced by
G train migrants.
A man holds
His wife’s hand
And makes eyes at
A girl two seats down.
A tattooed and scarred hand
Clutches the same pole
That a smooth hand
Also holds on to.
Bedford ave.
There’s a second migration,
But this time it’s
Full of nose piercings
And grandma sweaters.
A short skirted mother with caramel highlights
Glares at the time.
We’ve hit a main artery
And the car rocks
To the speed.
Whose heart is it?
Mine?
Or does it belong
To the girl
With the sparkling flats?
1st ave
And a teenager
With huge neon blue headphones
Tries to read the
Poem that I’m writing
In my NOOK.
A small woman
In a somber
Suit slumps over.
She’s going to miss her stop.
She missed it last week.
Another idiot takes out his wallet
And counts his money.
He’s lucky that we’re not
Back at Dekalb.
3rd ave
And an electronic voice
Tells me that if I see
Something
I should say
Something.
A girl in stilettos tries to
Sway to the car’s rhythm.
She fails miserably
And stumbles.
14th Street Union Square.

Impressum

Texte: Angely Mercado
Bildmaterialien: Angely Mercado
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.06.2012

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