Riding the Subway

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    Riding the Subway

    One step off the train
    A garbled call
    The door slams shut
    Engines rev
    Cars lurch forward

    Alone on the platform
    Smells of exhaust
    A labyrinth of lines on the wall
    A gaping tunnel left and right
    Stairs to, I don’t know where

    Cars screech to a halt
    Engines idle
    The door flings open
    A garbled call
    One step onto the train

    Alone in the car
    Smells of exhaust
    A blur of lights on the wall
    Closed doors left and right
    Seats for, I don’t know who

    Cars screech to a halt
    Engines idle
    The door flings open
    A garbled call
    One step off the train

    Repeat
    Repeat
    Repeat
    Repeat
    Repeat

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    rsalassi commented on Riding the Subway

    09-13-2010

    I've read many poems using the daily subway ride as a metaphor for many different thoughts, but your poem treats the monotony as a reassurance itself.

    ginga commented on Riding the Subway

    08-24-2010

    Winter, Nice to come and read again. Just wondering if you're been riding the subway? Seems this poem came from one entranced in riding the train for awhile. I liked the juxtaposing of the lines from stanza to stanza, by the end the reader realizes the subject has each stop's routine down pat. ginga

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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