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,
until I return
to be transported
NaPoWriM 2013: Day 8
Companion to “I Ride the Regional Rail” posted in October 2012