Piss on Trash; I came over here to say this

wobble to the subway doors
     automatic
           before they'll close
you bridge the gap
     stagger on

at your worn heels
     buttoned up
                leather belted
seriously bent
          anger scowled
anger thrust through plexiglass
     into heart of train

regardless

the metal wheel
the metal monster
                              pulls away

If I could make you out in the crowd passing
I would

at length of edge
       off track
                      he quickly turns
veers from departed train
      cuts toward me
throws his hand
            into the past
what was
                 looking into the corner
                                  under escalator
                          by the train mapped
                                  the totem pillar

'that guy!'

'he pissed right there!'

I'm his only audience I am humanity I am made to see
shown the wet lines growing between the tile

'he squatted down and pissed! he pissed!'

passes me too close
      inches from glowing globe
shiny sweated
            nearly brushes my nose

'fuck is wrong with people?'
       
                       all the veins
clenched indignation
         I respond with blank smile
paper weight

'fuck is wrong with people?'
     one last bit of wisdom before he goes.

Tagged

Big Dog Diedie

--sat here long ago
burned cigarette on this cushion
here--

a hole in things

yellow mold--a feat
long remembered--
low underground

black tips of permanent markers
two hands time around which
in the middle--stops

tag a name.

Metronarok

city is its own apocalypse
          empty streets snake by empty walls

no mass incarceration today
          surveillance mechanism built for home

what the last email in the chain said
          a victim-less perfect copy machine

sun is its own warmth
          spends its days in endless dark

for next 24 hours
          the mechanical coil of the world snake

abeyant.

Villain

this bus on the corner, rarely, if ever, looks to stop;
you have to wave it down or step forward before it rides past.

she was wearing sunglasses that day,
it was sunny and hot and bright, so
she was wearing them to shield her eyes
from the bright and hot sun.

when the bus with its compressed air braking system
stopped with a puff and huff and gradually lowered itself to the curb,
and the doors opened with a jerk and inward swing,
she balked and gave no intention of walking on.

as this bus, as previously asserted, had a penchant and reputation
among the boarders at this particular corner
not to stop on most occasions, the other potential riders,
who were edging nervously behind the sunglassed girl,
wasted no time for opportunity to board,
moving around her and jumping on, scanning cards
and taking a desired seat.

I was one of those riders, though I determined to stand.

After the bustle, you could hear the driver's audible and
inwardly directed, "sorry about that, ma'am,"
and her equally audible and inwardly directed, "that's okay,"
return, as she stepped on.

They up and left together; The Pall Mall Girl

she looked lonelier than the pack of Pall Malls at her feet,
carton left by some passer-by for the subway floor
there was a chance cigarette or two left
each rider thinking to pick them up, even if you weren't to smoke
just trying to make a score
but not a soul willing to make the move between her legs
so tension hung in on the car
all eyes at this girl's feet
while she leaned her head against the Plexiglas partition
headphones in lips pouted eyes going nowhere fast
clothes drab gray old and waning still
we waited we watched and I couldn't guess her age
as her bag slunk to cover the rolled tobacco rolled paper
arm and hand relaxed in dazed lost sleep control
those fidgeting addicts wish scratch feel watch
red light and doors open close bodies move and feet shuffle
the abrupt jerk of engine brakes subway stop noise
and by the next stop in case you missed it
the girl and the Pall Malls were gone.

Siren man

Siren man
radio humming man
metro walking man
screaming into the walkman

conversations drop to whispers

there's some averting their eyes

there's an asshole filming you with a sneer

siren man
car alarm sounding man
pacing the subway man
screaming into the sound man

you all dressed in black

your clothes oil slick with dirt

caked on layers of unwash

siren man
discordant voices man
striking at the normies man
leaning against the car door man

you've got your head hung low

screaming back at the blaring lights traffic roll

you hit rewind screech go rewind screech

siren man
sound man
mystery man
radio man

carrying your demons on tape

carrying chaos on rewind

carrying enemies anywhere you hit play

carrying sound into the subway night

Meetings

met an Amish girl on the subway.
She was drinking coffee from a white cup.
Wore on her head a white bonnet.

We didn't say a word to each other.
Spoke in glances.
There weren't many of those.
Maybe none.

She got off at McPherson Square.
I stayed on.

Scripted

I need to stop taking the metro,
it's giving me a big head,
I'm the smartest character on the show,
watching everyone, judging,
I'm reading my great books!
thinking my great thoughts!
and there they are
being worthless, scouring the
newspaper, doing the crosswords,
sudoku, maybe they're doing it
for me I think sometimes, but they
aren't, I still think it though,
maybe it's proof the world's only
in my mind/body/mind and I want to
be the smartest,
I am sad they are missing out,
having no free will, listening to the
drone of their own brain,
I thank them when I get off
at my stop with a nod,
I'm sure it's the last stop and
they go comatose and fold into the blackness,
I decide to check tomorrow morning
to see if the faces are the same,
but I don't care enough to remember them
tonight,
they exist only to appease me in
the knowledge that I am knowing
greater things, that is enough
for them, to be a part of my narrative,
they are faceless pixels hurtling
nowhere, whereas I am beautiful,
going everywhere, understanding all,
they live on my breath, I can feel the universe
expanding inside me, I try to force my consciousness
from my head, it goes elsewhere,
someone is reading Twilight,
I scoff, the bell rings, the door opens
I step out, there is a feeling of relief or
release, or both, there are people
that don't know me shuffling about,
I eclipse them, the station breathes out,
shrinks before me, it is night
the metros eyes go blank,
my audience awaits the morning

Southern metro cookin'

They had us in a fish fry
like sardines sweating those
remaining hours away before
a hand grabs and pulls them
toward God, like the can with
the curled up top that looks like
some satanic soda pop,
and the girls were grinding their
teeth all smiles, a group sang happy
birthday outside Arlington cemetary
which I found kinda funny
in way, I guessed for all the oil lost
and we boiled crispy and golden
until we hit the end of the line
which was just two slices
of white bread and a side of slaw
away from the Pentagon.

Hyattesville Green

Collar raise
no bandana t'hold it up
red starch white mark dancing flower
book open hardbound pop-
(street cap) next to--

The Lost Symbol Dr. Sax

--mine
wit the state of
just about metal wheel
grinding in that oldtime 1920s
cable car electric car
juggling after work daylight-
sleep sleep sheep wool
ah, limp longing caress
the time lump

between here & there's
(n's many rails
                      laid down)
a green-line train
switching tracks above ground Ft Totten
on to Hyattesville bound Maryland--

I intend to catch
this drudging loneliness home

Escalator's on the left side Shady Grove

Seem's I'm always-- stuck,
behind their ambling, steady concrete however,
feet, they're leaning slightly diagonal to prevent,
an effort? maybe- me from making pass
to where I gotta-- Jesus Christ! I'm under their
arms, raised, down on the ground quick
beatin' knees under legs up escalator whirring
on the left side left side Left Side!
tripping once...I smiled- just in case
somebody, unmoved, felt it wasn't- in some ways-
on purpose, scan my card, I did that before
looking back keep the pace, right? Well I did.
I'm sure- in my mind I'm knocking old ladies
got 3 people on the tracks broken legs
heads waitin' for the train runnin' rollin' rail
probably won't be good for them,
grinding wheels like monster B-movie madness corn starch red food dye wonder-

But I gotta get out

Eastern

Facing East
Prostrate submissive pious
without shoes in the cold, public
unself-conscious in late afternoon
blue darkness of oblivion, spirit
thousand miles thousand lifetimes
rhythmic mat covered ground,
prayer obligation love
Faithful.
I envied him

there few blocks away walking
a kitten crossed gravel road, suffering

I called out-
I knew him once, suffered together
The sky becomes dark with so many memories