Train Ride
Mary Winters
between Newark and New York: dumpy
non-sleek train -- you don't want to
sit anywhere near the bathrooms;
commuters' coffee splattered,
dried from ceiling to floor; rips in
seat covers sutured up big, even,
deliberate: knife wounds. Quiet
in the morning but loud and rude
on the way back: day-workers going
home have their beer and their say.
Tunnel under the Hudson: blackest dark
of blindness, end-of-the-world, time
between two lives, torture chamber;
then back to daylight, your ears pop.
Close your eyes a second, ticket's gone
-- common magic. Defeated angels
cheer you up, kids skipping school.
They slide on board, hawk candy:
buy it or I'll steal your purse,
buy it or I'll break your heart.
