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.
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