Poem

Bleak in the underground

Breathing uncirculated air,

 the musty aspiration of the 

 garbage-soaked rail ties,

 an entombing experience

The tenacious wait,

 sinking into the suck of

 the moldy platform, dirty

 to its foundation, and falling

 asleep standing up when it

 gets too heavy 

Ahhhhhhh here comes my train

Reading over someone's shoulder,

 spying my little eye,

 invading, I read the 

 inscription

     RELIEF FROM THE

     WICKED INFLUENCE OF

     SATAN IS NEAR

In this city, you never know.

 The spirit of SATAN may be upon us,

 down here with with the rats,

 but as long as he doesn't bother me, and I get

 to where I'm going, he can ride right along.

And I'll pretend not to notice anyone,

 and they'll pretend not to notice me, 

 and everyone is safe