Bored In Manhattan

I sit, from Canal to 209 and back watching the doors open and close. I see glimpses of Times Square's neon lights, West 4th's man-made green, Columbus Circle's arrows to the park as the doors open and close. I hear music, Mexican guitarists, a cappella, a breakdancer's stereo entering and exiting through the doors. Open and close. I hear plans for the night, for the next day, for the next week, for later and the doors open and close. And I sit, from Canal to 209 and back, in the city and not, On a seat that does not question my empty pockets as my eyes open and close.