I pushed myself in, like a baby being born
in reverse. And the others pushed too, as if
inside there were a prize.
But no, there were only bodies,
some stinking of filth, others of pain
and hate mixed with hope,
Just when no more bodies fit,
still another squeezed in, and the air
so thin, elongated time slowly elapsing
making us think our destinations
could never be reached. Together
we were all apart, impossibly striving
not to touch or see our eyes glazed
by forced intimacy,
I remember those days. I cringe
knowing the ride goes on for many,
in the worm that eats the apple.
Many will arrive. Others, lost
will ride forever.
Me, I was pushed off
at the right stop.
(Claudia at Dverse Poets prompted us to write about Subways today. Since I grew up in the inner city - Bronx, N.Y., and rode the subway daily since the 6th grade, couldn't resist the prompt.
I'm also submitting this to the Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Both sites host a vast range of poets. Fun to read.)