The subway in NYC
Is a rather odd circumstance
Underground transit
Tunnels from one world to the next
Cluttered
Smelly
Sometimes cold
Or terribly hot
All races
So many workers
In service of this city
I sit and I wonder
Why must I do this?
Is this part of the dream?
Or do dreams have repercussions?
A homeless man
Asks for a dime
A dollar he says
Will bide him some time
Every day I work
And every day I spend
In and out of the subway
Feels like quick sand
Underground, lost in thought
Is it all an illusion?
Are we really going anywhere?
I'd like to take my bike
Up into the clouds
Look down on all the beauty
And reconsider the
System
That rules underground
Delays our existence
I'm bound
Eleutheromania
Is what I feel each day
Aggravated by the mundane
By the waiting
I am stuck
Cramped between strangers
On time, early
Words I don't often employ
When I'm talking about myself
Lately I'm wondering
If my eternal clock is behind
Some things are so simple
Obvious
Quick to understand
Easy to achieve
Friendships I make
With very little effort
Lovers are not
So simple or obvious
I try to understand
Am I ever heading in the right direction?
Am I too easy?
Or is it too difficult to achieve?
I find so many men to be like the subway
Often a waste of time
Unreliable, mysterious
A nuisance
And yet I return
Almost every day
To the need and desire
To take the ride
Believing I'll arrive exactly where I want to be
Even if I'm late