An Average Urban Journey

Bodies litter stained floors

in this subway station as the head

piercing drone of trains rush

through tunnels, an anonymous man

throws his own body in front of a machine,

is crushed by unimaginable force.

I am unaware of this, sitting inside

the beast that killed this human.

We stop for a few moments,

a robotic voice announces

that there’s been organic

difficulties. The world won’t stop

and so we’ll move on after more machines

clean up the mess. There is nothing

to say about the dirt speckled

baby blue tiles that adorn the wall

I stare at beyond the blurry advert

that encases this compartment.

We begin to move again.

This is what happened:

we said nothing mattered

enough times that it actually came true.

Only a few don’t separate meaning

from life now. Emerging

from the underground I found

a poem in the sky then followed

my sour gut, ignoring more crumpled

bodies along sidewalks. Heavily armed

police everywhere. A rich and powerful

person enters an ancient marble temple

on 17th street. I walk towards the source

of spotlights roaming skyscraper walls

and then sit in a fabricated park to lick

the invisible moon above us with my feeble

thoughts. Again I get up to wander and worry

about death, then remind myself to allow

my feet to guide the rest and arrive

into the unknown.