It’s like your home though
-ALLISON
The things you forget you love.
And remembering that love hurts
Remembering I love the subway. The zoning out. Feeling that I have nothing to worry about for these 10 to 15 minutes but disappearing into this too bright seat. Listen to my music. Read my book. People watch. Oh the people watching on the subway! The best place I’ve known yet. It’s like walking through 47 countries, border to border, without leaving your seat. The remarkable feat of being able to sleep through the deafening noise of shrieking brakes. It lulls you the way a reliable lover would. The shifts, stops/starts… comforts like a mother’s love.
The first day is always the best, the train isn’t crowded and there seems to be that NYC magic in the air. It’s has the smell of ambition and urine. The invisible dreams are still hovering far enough off the platform to keep me motivated. I remember why I have made this place a home for so long. I can go anywhere.
My love for the subway is filled with it’s duplicitous nature. The other side to that coin. Because there is always another side isn’t there? In recent months (years?) this love seems to have been on it’s back side; flailing like a beetle on the sidewalk that can’t get it’s feet under him. Train isn’t running…. right now. But you can wait another 18 minutes to see if it does. The 2 is running, but it’s running on the 5 track (so why is it still called the 2 train?! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.). So many people the train can’t leave the station. So many delays I could have walked the 3.2 miles to my appointment and been on time. I could go on… but let’s not for now. Because we’ve all had our hearts broken and stomped on by a 7 ton metal bullet that runs underground, right?!
And I’m home and it felt good to daydream in that magic muck-filled air for a ride or two. Really. It felt great.
roadside yogi 