Monday, May 05, 2008

Subway Poem 5

She clutches the rail with striated bird hands
Lips pressed together tight to ward off the thrusting crowd
The floral silk of her blouse espouses
A more colorful demeanor than her gray countenance
Good for health, says the white lettering on her crisp, green bag
Her other, seated across from her
Free of fear
Her lipstick has run into her chin
Spittle flies with each other word
As she addresses her seat mate
I'll fly, she says, I'll fly, I'll fly!

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