The air is hot and Lysol thick,
But nobody takes off their coat.
train cars wobble, screech and lurch,
their floors pockmarked.
Dreams of a new land
hardened into wads of blackened gum.
A man sleeps,
his head bobbing against a metal pole
while a woman draws staccato lines
into her expressionless brow.
Faces down,
Phones whispering,
“This is for all you NYC badasses!”
Riders rock,
hip to hip,
Fingers flicking to the same song.
Signs flash,
‘Don’t be someone’s subway story!’
No sir, not us.
Shoulder to shoulder,
we stay separate,
silent.