The 58

Tumbling, shuffling, breathing
All over each other
For an indecisive paycheck,
Or class.
An exodus of Brooklynites and
Queens residents
Into a wounded Manhattan.
She must be beautiful
This Sandy they all speak of.
Because only something so
Beautiful
Could be so destructive.
She cut our veins
And left us to choose between
Walking over 50 blocks to a functioning subway,
Or carpooling in the middle of a gas shortage.
I defiantly chose the Q58.
I cursed Sandy
Along with over 40 other passengers
And held my breath
As another siren wailed by.

Impressum

Texte: Angely Mercado all rights reserved
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.11.2012

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Widmung:
For my friend out in Howard Beach.