public transportation for thought.

A man is talking to ghosts
with intensity
and dancing without steps to music we can't hear
or maybe he's just stomping
maybe its fear
mine or ours and his
because as the stations pass through the windows
he's still talking
but we're not listening
just creeping
nonchalantly toward the end of the car
just looking
uncomfortably at the space
we
have
created
between us and the song
we don't understand.

Unthinking
I walk out
resolutely
quite clear of those damn closing doors
unaware
my heavy steps hit the metal stairs
until i'm facing off with the williamsburg bank tower--
both of us
glaring through the cold,
marking a space,
stung.
back in the world
I don't understand.