It starts with the walk from his apartment
to the subway station that gets him to work
five to ten minutes late.

This is still the fastest way to get there.

It starts with the grocery store, the bank,
some of the smaller apartment complexes
and a few of the townhouses. He swears they’re talking.

What’s worse is that he also knows
they aren’t talking to him. They aren’t waiting
for a late-night of hands pushing through wet, clingy brick
in a fearless bid to stand and walk on two uneasy feet.

They have no interest in history. They seem to adore gossip
and know how to go about it properly. Quiet as hell. Almost silent,
but he catches faint whispers and the odd word that doesn’t fit
a single sentence he can imagine normal people and things using.

Following him
all the way to the station, the conversations
unnerve him, but they don’t slow him down.

The same goes for when he gets to about
the halfway point, the one where the traffic light
stops working at six-thirty p.m. on every second Tuesday,
and he notices that everyone is walking quickly.

Nothing like a warped film strip,
but there is something a little off about several million
people suddenly becoming very determined.

They’re not crazy,
but they might be soon.

None of it gets him down.

He’s got a job to do.
He’s important
and wholly necessary to the comfort
of six hundred and twenty-five needy people.

He buys sandwiches and magazines all the time.

His life and work demands that he make it
to his bedroom each night without something horrible happening,
and knowing that is enough to get him to the station alive.

At the bottom of the steps
he runs into an old man in no great hurry
who asks him for some change.

He gives him a couple of bucks,
and the old man puts a hand on his shoulder,
looks him over warmly, like a father
and tell him not to worry and that his life
has been like this for a long time.

He doesn’t know what to make of this
until he gets to work, which is when things
get really scary.

The body count is immense,
and everyone is trying to get out
their last words at the same time.

01/30/2010

Posted on 01/30/2010
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard