A Train

Below the tracks on the A train
Rats are snuffling around in the garbage.
People are piling up bracing for the big surge
Into a metal box that is close and hot and indifferent

Caught up in the tracks
Of interest to the rats
Is the refuge of the masses: Prescription drug containers,
Starbucks infusions, red bull injections.

On the train the posters remind us of how well the city of NY is doing:
We work for you!
We fix it when it needs fixing!
Hooray for the men in red wings because they work so hard!

I step on someone’s toe
Another cringes when I accidently brush against her hair
One more debates the virtues of taking the R in rush hour and a transfer to the N
Because the A train is just too crowded.

I just want to go home.
I just want to forget about the baby girls
Living in public housing with a wall caving in
Eating lead based paint crumblies.

Why is this 50 year old grandmother
Who is younger than me but looks like she is 80
Taking care of two baby girls when she doesn’t even want to go outside?
While her daughter who is so smart and beautiful waits to get knocked up again and beat up again?

I don’t know the answer to that question.
I am a failure because I don’t know the answer to that question.
What I do know is that I want to go home now.
I want to wash the subway away

I want to eat holy bread
And take a bike ride in the moon light.
And sit at my favorite bar that makes me remember Brooklyn
And be happy that I am not in Brooklyn.

But it is only Wednesday and tomorrow is a long day
Tomorrow promises more rats and babies and lost mothers.
Not going home yet.
Slow down. Comb my hair. Breathe.