The commute
She is slate, grey graffiti’d metal, shuttered storefront. She is brick, mortar, vinyl, lit windows, neon. She is Hispanic, Hasidic, West African, White: bearing children, big chested, tiny- tight packaged jeaned things. She is strut, out and up, left- right, the rise and fall. Large thighed, skinny legged. Each stoplight, street corner, parked car empty space. Ghostly image, specter, mare: there but that she isn’t.
Worlds fall apart. Muscles bound, barely moved takes every effort. Crestfallen- stooped from standing straight, puppet cut strings and the eyes. The eyes at thirty feet, close enough to kill, be killed. Thirty feet and close enough.
Night terrors. Paralysis. Meteors falling, entering the atmosphere like cigarettes in shallow water. The hiss, pop and streaming fire. I knew I’d go crazy but not this soon.
Worlds fall apart. Muscles bound, barely moved takes every effort. Crestfallen- stooped from standing straight, puppet cut strings and the eyes. The eyes at thirty feet, close enough to kill, be killed. Thirty feet and close enough.
Night terrors. Paralysis. Meteors falling, entering the atmosphere like cigarettes in shallow water. The hiss, pop and streaming fire. I knew I’d go crazy but not this soon.