I ride the Broad Street Line from knees to heart.

Quiet pulse pumping, pushing me toward

the turnstile’s heavy lift and drop,

then down dimly lit steps.

 

I wait. Slow rattle approaches.

Uniquely uniform striped hair

tops the heads on faces of all shades.

I gotta get me a do like that.

 

Inside this traveling white blood cell.

I see each station pass.

And remember them by their color scheme.

City Hall stop is  familiar.

Concord high Raiders maroon and gold.

Race/Vine’s a bathroom stall pale green.

 

My own heart skips as I maneuver

the spinning metal grating

that releases me out

la toxin passing through the skin.

 

In front of me

the tip of Goliath’s paint brush

peers out from between.

Majestic seat of local power rises.

Penn surveys his glassstone forest.

 

Under my feet the vein

is pumping, passing,

pushing, waiting,

until I return

to be transported

again.

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NaPoWriM 2013: Day 8

Companion to “I Ride the Regional Rail” posted in October 2012