(untitled subway musing)

Miss
my train by half
a minute
and I think
Well, ain't that typical?

Walked out of the bar
half-hard
and pent-up
and pulse-all-sped-up
and it seems like just
any old night.
And now,
sitting in the station,
listening to the bums
howl about love and
"God bless the woman that
can see beauty in me!"
and I think,
well, hell
I aint any different.
Becoming cross, they say,
"Why don't we just
continue this tomorrow?"
and
"Wha -- Wednesday? Yeah, alright man."
and I think:
I think we're just the same.

But the one'll leave us
with a song,
and damned if it isn't
pretty good.
I'll sit, and listen, and
tear-up a little, even,
and smile when the
woman down the bench from me
clipping her fingernails
starts absent-mindedly snipping
on the downbeats.

When my train pulls in
I toss a buck in the man's case,
a thankyou in his eye,
and with a smile that's genuine
I take off down the tunnel
toward home, and thoughts
with nowhere to take off
their shoes.

-BR 8/29/06