Earlier this morning,
on the subway platform in Brooklyn,
Manhattan bound, I was dealing with the hermeneutics
of pouring rain, soaking people
and the subway train,
that was running late.
and I didn’t find anything prophetic
in this morning nuisance.
Till later, —
when the woman entered the train
with her disabled son.
She didn’t say a word, but the eloquence
of her eyes was overwhelming.
She looked at her boy,
I was looking at them.
I saw the light,
but the shell around my soul
was still too thick
then I had to step off.
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.
standing behind the glass wall,
observing constriction workers:
walking through the building sky-rise scaffolding,
raining the welding spatters
riding the elevator:
up or down.
it is raining outside–
grey water and glowing spatters.
the smoke is mixing with the cars honking
and the after-hours drunken bonding.
a Mid-Town West,
but I’m still standing behind the glass wall–
in a fishbowl longing.
There is an angry lady talking with her ex-husband on the phone.
I lost the count of how many times
she said “talk to my lawer”, or used an F word.
and nobody cared about her bills, and prescribed medication that she was yelling into the air of a subway car.
Everybody were hiding behind the newspapers, or electronic book readers.
Suddenly, one big man loudly sneezed, and another big man told him “Gezuntheit!”,
then they both submerged into their reading.
(the train was doing its way to the first stop)
Meanwhile that woman finished the verbal exchange with her ex, and dissolved into the poker game
on her smartphone.
“people can switch their attention with a speed of browsing pages of a morning newspaper”, I thought to myself.
(I had a craving for a good crunchy hot dog with a sauerkraut, fried onions, and mustard.)
buying a dream,
some will get even more.
then they’ll watch it in a slowmo.
(again and again)
their eyes are voracious for
the movement of their mouth.
hearts for the thrill
and their limbs for the actor’s limbs.
(wet palms holding the sofa handles)
they’ll throb every time
when their tongues will lick their lips.
I am getting sick.
no more porn,
no more politics.