Day 1, Poem 1: "Captive in Brooklyn, Commuting"


Gray-haired man
on the Brooklyn-bound F
holding twenty people
captive and miserable
hostage to your greatness

Do you see them
cringing?
Cursing those of us
behind you
who don't have
to meet your gaze?

Do you know
you scared that
woman
with a cello strapped
to her back,
holding on to her
young daughter

I don't think
she really
wanted to get off
on 23rd
I think she was scared
for her child

Your air-guitar
more like
obscene gesticulations
The crazed
gyrations
of a madman

Where are you
in your head?
Smiling
Enjoying yourself
Welcoming
boarding passengers
like old friends

Are you on stage?
Hosting a party?
For all these
things
I could forgive you
your
crazy bliss of
off-putting
yet harmless behavior

But your repertoire
sucks
I mean, come on
Queen of Hearts?
Shit, if you're
going to do
Juice Newton
Everybody knows
you go
"Angel of the Morning"
Ah, my stop
at last!