Friday, February 23, 2007

Subway Poem 1#

In the Aether

Here it comes,
Here it comes,

A clear wave hits me,
Ripples from the train
Splash the walls of the station,
And wash away
The heat and the steam.

The air moves around the station
And sits.

It takes its time and waits for the next train,
Slowly becoming absorbed
In the conversations abounding
Between rotten fruit and empty bottles,
Armpits and bread crusts,
Grease sizzling and gleaming on the ground,
And the water pooled between the tracks.

It joins them all and wears them all,
One smell on top of one another,
Weighing itself down and growing heavy
In the fluorescent lights,
Waiting to be taken away,

Getting thicker,
Getting thicker,

It is sticking to me,
The scents of the world
Dumped in this cement basin
And mixed with exhaust.

Moments rolled up
In crumpled napkins unfolding,
Rise up and sink once more,
Cycles mirror the days and make
Memories flow like incense
And my breath, I can taste it now,
Becomes dense and solid,
As coffee cups and dirty socks
Come up into the air and dance, oh

It all reeks of people moving too quickly,
Of people getting stuck,
Of people wandering, lost.

What is coming?
What is coming?


The ground is shaking,
Loud noises sputter from speakers,
The gas moves and becomes fluid,
It readies itself for making waves,
And blowing the old scents away.

A new breeze is arriving,
For a light, coming from away
In the dark, is moving near
And shines on the iron rails ahead.