Poetry / Deep Into Brooklyn

Sometimes dreams, lucid between memories slip through into the real world

Making you further question your sanity

Seamlessly melding with reality

Where bullets rain faster than smiles

And fake concern stretches around the syllables of newscasters’ grins

The train tilts along a sharp curve—

And I forget what I’ve been considering so closely,

Music blasts through plastic coated wires

And I people watch

As we speed by underground

Time illuminated in red, close to midnight

We’re stumbling as we’re rumbling along tracks

We hastily patch as they fall to pieces weekend over weekend

And we’re still impatient

So here we are, glitching out as train after train speeds by

I stand with feet planted on a train filled with people

Each with their own stories and challenges

Ones that will carry from this night to this new morning

And can’t be shrugged off as April Fools jokes

Making their way home, or making their way to something

As I am

A family of four sits down in a row on the train at 12.00am

Heading deeper into Brooklyn, a mother and two daughters,

One with her mother’s hairstyle

And the other rocking a mini version of her mother’s pink pants

A child sits in a stroller with a thin clear plastic covering draped over him

Small hands pressing against plastic

Eyes wide and very awake

His family throws bang snaps at each other and the floor

Mini fireworks popping as they make contact

The entire train car tries to brace for each pop, but jerks minutely every time one goes off

Here is childish glee they grit their teeth against

Perhaps it’s too much happiness they haven’t been invited into, in too small a space

Perhaps it’s too late, or too early for them

A man in a silver puffy jacket patches the cotton material

Back into the lining of his coat with clear packaging tape

Methodically ripping pieces which sharp white teeth

I’m happy to see him mending the sleeve

Instead of chucking the entire jacket aside as impossible to fix, as most people do

Thinking it’s too much effort

When they can more easily trek to the nearest Uniqlo

Grabbing up another jacket as quickly as they can swipe their credit card

A temporary session of retail therapy

It’s 12.05am

And the doors slide open

Some of us jump off

Dancing into whatever adventures the morning may hold