Purgatory at the 2nd Avenue Station

Razor blade - sharp - shines at my eye.

Trumpeter plays the Dreiwitz pygmy horn, silenced for the hundredth time by the arriving uptown F.

There's never been a quick transfer at the 2nd Avenue Station.

Not for me in 15 years.

His licks sound like a blind cat sweeping his claws against linoleum

for a chance to find a bottlecap (his own toy invention), 

once belonging to a 2-liter bottle of coca-cola or pepsi.

With arms raised, another stretches out the bullshit of the day.

It sheds but unfortunately, he gets it on everyone else - 

because he feels it, he's relieving himself.

Men think they are cute - in movies directed by women.

Period pieces... so lonely are they.

They dress the part and their faces say - 

"Save me

Mother me up

I'm real"

It's here:

For everything, I feel.

Straight Shot Down 2nd Avenue, Manhattan

Tunnel view - capsulated street ship.
Aborted submarine.
Desert shark.

Nightlife:
It's these guys with ties that imagine they're on the rise. (They sure walk like it.)
Slappin' each other's back cause Thursday's been the new Friday
since before they joined the workforce.
Is it football Season?

She reminded me of the old heroin face.
The color or lack thereof grey skin.
Still cool.
No problem cause I've solved it, for now.
I could be dead wrong.
Donuts are sometimes the happiest notion in my mind.

Nothing brought bliss like the sweet cupcake with purple-pale icing.
Delivered from the Cakelord herself,
fully becoming the solid fruition of her legend,
her sound, her utter being.
My savioress, I savor.

Straight Shot Up 1st Avenue, Manhattan

Ah to be on a bus, the airplane of the streets.
Noisy. Turbulence.
Out of the window, people in their clouds.

Goofy jogging man looks as though he's had enough running.
Hospital workers still wearing their drab hospital clothes -
walking on the dirty streets - I hope they go straight home.

Pass the medical center, where the many problems are
Born, Bred, and Dead.

Hasidic man on cell phone looks like Santa Claus in April.
I have a feeling...

Pregnant woman uses her fetus hump to rest her hands upon.
Must be comforting to know its not a result of a bad diet.
A soft, portable texting table.
I wonder if Joe-soon-to-be-baby can break the mother's code....
Do we ever?

Respect for the handicapped, there within.

Mindset on the F

Throw it on a t-shirt and sell it.
Retro-fit like a black and white photo tossed on a multi-colored poster.
Nine is a cheap number.
We're getting a deal.

Mr. Brown Hat/Brown Shoes guy grows a big nose,
and another one sits closer to me.
Sleeping man across from me has scissor-crab legs and a silver ring.

There's a tall baby with a green beanie,
holding a curved pole and dangling a gold earring,
invisibly leaning, soon to be leaving.

Electric Earmuff girl with blue mom-jeans and pink dad-watch,
remains on the train as I leave them all
                                                               alone.