The MTA does not keep stats on subway suicides.
I've often wondered about the schmuck
lying on the tracks somewhere between First Avenue and Third.
He backs the L line up to Broadway Junction.
No trains will run in either direction due to pending police investigations.
We estimate one death by train in five to be intentional.
The other souls have left their platforms seeking mislaid idevices, umbrellas, and gym clothes.
Lookers on stay frozen in train headlights, unable to will down the brakes.
Their eyes closed tight in silent prayer knowing no one in this city is truly alone.
And no one gets to work on time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I really like the way the speaker condemns herself by calling someone a schmuck before revealing they've just died -- I almost want that sense of annoyance/self-loathing to be more of a driving force in the poem. Because as much as we hate that jumper and all the other track fodder, there's this disgusting fear that we'd actually jump down after our ipod too.
ReplyDeleteSmall notes: not sure who "we" refers to, or what purpose it serves to bring in a collective, and I would hyphenate Lookers-on for clarity.
Last two lines are golden.
I had the same question as Dinah. The we line drew me out of the poem. I spent the rest of my first read trying to figure out who we were. I would either develop it more (if it is intended to engage the reader and make us complicit in looking on) or change the line to remove the we.
ReplyDeleteI think my favorite line is the one detailing things other souls are seeking. I found it very interesting and vivid.