I just don't know how to not feel like I'm
ceramic fragments of a coffee mug with dried up grounds stuck, constantly ripping
into tinier pieces. As oppose d to a
human, who feels.
A subway car can fill up with one
hundr ed of the same exact person. ..I
can touch them, hear them, feel their
breath running down my neck.
I go to sleep. The same person
appears. I wake
up. The movies that
feature that person overlay above the
people that fill the train car when it's
not them, all day.
Always cracked, never shut. Unlike the
doors of the cars that trap me down
there with them for over twenty
minutes at a time as the rest of the
people on board simply grunt at the
only inconvenience to them being
getting somewhere else a littler later.
I would grunt too, but | stopped
understanding whether or not there
were ever lips on my mouth when the
train stopp ed for more than five
seconds. That's how fast it happens.
Sometimes it's the way someone's
hand moves to grab their coffee from
the ir. bag. Sometimes it's a silhouette
that deceives me back and forth more
than once in a minute.
I'm constantly trying to decipher if my
thoughts are memories or
Am I just remembering the way his
hand used to approach my face in the
way that the fingers clasp the coffee. . ..
Is he really ordering a latte, still, after
all these years?
More than five seconds in a crowd of
people and at least two to five of them
become one of.….it somehow becomes
indistinguishable, yet exactly like the
moment you were hurt the most by that
person, combined with all of the other
times it happen ed too. In five seco n d s..
And somehow, your left leg has to turn
back on so you can get off at your stop.
Though you never really leave the
“Enter with or buy Metrocard at 168th st.”