January 11: Subway Hearts
Subway
Hearts
If only hearts came equipped with outdated subway technology:
A navigable metropolis for human emotion.
Maps available at every
station.
Fellow straphangers breaking
feigned stoicism and offering directions to tourists.
There's train traffic
ahead...please be patient.
Waiting for yours to arrive at
the platform
--only—
You fly down the stairs and
catch its taillights
as it disappears into a dark
tunnel.
Another will come.
You must wait.
If you see something, say
something.
A 2 a.m. ride drops an eerie feeling into the
desolate car.
You are trapped, moving below
ground,
with unrelenting unease.
It's an express train, and
empty stations fly by
while the metal wheels screech
along the tired rail.
Stand clear of the closing
doors, please...
The inevitable moment when the
doors seal,
leaving all who wish to enter
stuck at their current destination,
nothing to do but wait for the
next one.
There will, however, always be
the rider who jams
a forceful hand, elbow, arm,
foot, leg, bag, stroller, dog, child...
in between
--only--
the doors always win.
The heart knows when it has
given enough time to potential passengers.
It must move on.
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