poem of the day 02.20.09

late train again

some days you
just breath in the bullshit
and i hate this guy
i’m standing next to
hate the way his forehead slopes
over his eyes
and how he’s unshaven like me
thirty-minutes waiting
for the train to show at 59th street
wondering why trains
always run so well
in the mornings
on ugly weekdays
when bosses are watching the clock
and a little bit of money
is to be made.
and i can’t help that
i hate this guy
standing here waiting
as big a fool as i am
duped by the system
his eyes closed
his hands fiddling with an ipod
maybe thinking of something else
dinner or a stiff drink
a hot piece of ass waiting
for him in a bar
or he could be standing here
with a simple and precise hatred for me
for my hat and jacket or my dull face
this pen and yellow note pad
because i’ve been here for thirty minutes too
thirty-five now
in his life, in his line of sight
and i probably remind him that some
minutes are longer than life
and sometimes trains take forever to arrive
and there are just days like this one
where you breathe in the bullshit
a little more than you want
because your face has grown so long
that it rests too close to the soiled ground
the ground littered with so many turds
and missed moments.