there are certain days on the EL
Saturday or Sunday
and the sky is orange and different clouds
and airplane streaks glowing
and all above the city

Everyone is calm
And I look blank
and I feel weeping

For the fat black woman waiting by the doors
never took a seat
her eyes are skittish
like a doe
alert for insults
she shrinks her shoulders
when people enter
or when they leave

For the older white woman across from me
pills **** alchohol something
heavy mascara eyes resigned
seeing yuppies entering at Girard
feeling the contrast
thinking what could have been
croaky voiced and thin

For children laying on seats
staring at ceilings
or plastic windows
white hair beads clacking
eyes like rocks
parent clicking at phone
yelling at phone

all pushed in an EL car
and I love them all

and together we ride