One flat violin,
the smell of garlic knots,
a loud woman speaking mandarin behind my back,
a Hassidic Jew submerged into Talmud
some praisings “Hare Krishna” from another end.
(I even saw Jonah a few times before).
The train dives like a sperm whale
into the gaping hole
into the underworld of Brooklyn.
One nauseating hangover,
First I was lost, then I was found on a Friday afternoon.