I appreciate the benches in metro stations.
When the rakish ramble of men and women
coursing through the underground as a septic
tank emptying out into a sieve, when the gaping
tunnels swallow those carts as if yawning right
whales then tumbling into the oceans beyond,
when the hobble of old bodies wears thin
and we are left with the tattered remains
of a leg lurching itself across the station floor
when the inverted roots from the planet
tangle through the thrill of electric wires
sprawling throughout the upper crust
now thick as leather When I grow dizzy
at least I can sit on those metro station benches
and pretend to be waiting for
Something.