ONE LEVEL BELOW

A snake with steel skin.

Lights for the labyrinths.

The subway approaches the platform.

Benches exhibit the stain of graffiti;

the concrete floor lay littered

with gum spots.

A man plays a saxophone.

A school group moves through

like frightened minnows.

The aroma of diesel and

damp grime attaches to your skin.

There’s a low frequency rumbling

from mechanical  friction.

Newspapers lay twisted in corners.

An old man mumbles then

moves away.

Overhead lights reflect on

tiled walls.

The subway howls to a stop.

Like the front line of a football

team, riders burst onto the

platform.

Elbows and shoulders exchange

unpleasantries.

The doors close.

 

 

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