The Commute

Wind screamed and whistled
like a big Texan at a rodeo
subway intimacy
staring into sand, honey and blond
strands
blue ridged rubber floor
holding onto strange surfers
the buzz of the silver car
sounds like time travel
quietening petulant morning fears
transportation
held tightly in the embrace of warm bodies
rocking to and fro
a collective set of leaves
on a parched bark
a respite
break from destinations
Chinese beats faintly
pepper the backdrop
deep rumbling below
like miniature jack hammers
which jolt to a halt
as the train swings or swigs
a drunk losing his step
while holding unto the bottle
moments held frozen underground