from my unpublished collection
The “L” is packed again. And the later it runs, the more people arrive, and more of them try to get on, some pushing, some standing their ground. The driver keeps repeating that another train is coming soon. She’s had to get out twice to warn someone to let the doors close: she radios security, swears, unlocks her door, toddles out, locks her door, tells the person trying to board to step back to the platform, toddles back, unlocks her door, gets in and locks it, then radios security to tell them she’s ok, and we pull away from the station. I’m in hell. I think I have to pee. One guy makes these hissing sounds, he wants us all to know that he’s upset. Everyone is falling further and further behind. They decide to run our train express. A few push their way out. Someone barrels in. How very easily it will all unravel someday.
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First published in Poetry Northwest
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images and text © by Alpay Ulku
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