I Wish This Train More Empty

She sits there electric as the third rail. Entering Charles M.G.H. but we’re still moving quickly (finally just three of us now). Each disgorged passenger leaves a seat looking back at me with a shiny black grin. The wheels and track wail as a dilapidated wall comes into view. (He gets off) so I look up excited and try to catch her eye without being obvious- I miss and read an ad for Citibank or something. We're out over the bridge already and the sailboats are sitting at odd angles like Battleship pieces, and I am stuck like the red peg in a clear plastic hole. Dazed, I watch the boats sway- when they move, it’s effortless. I wish this train more empty. Next Stop, Kendall / M.I.T. jarred back underground to an unnatural dark, but the city's full and we've run out of bridge so it's this ridiculous down. The lights flicker and I look around desperate for an excuse to talk or to split a smile, but nothing comes and nothing is coming but estranged body language. She is a queen as I close my eyes and step out of focus, and the hypnotic wall goes blurry - - - We climb the perfect angle steps that some civil engineer designed (with the darkbrown grimestain that will never come off) so that each step puts us closer, and I can feel the design: one false step and I will bump her side, stand up straight and find her fingers in mine - - - Please take a moment to collect your belongings. This train will soon be cleared. And I’m jabbed again but this time there is no whooshing urban rush, no manic kinetic or artsy tunnel-black I am awake in this godawful sandtrap 9:30 AM I am alone with this girl and her miserable long hair and pretty pink skin. We've gotten nowhere as the lights lose their drive and can’t make it to my eye. We’re still sitting and I can’t remember how walking feels. In the dark she looks confused and her face is awkward and her body sore. She shifts her uncomfortable weight from one side to the other. In the dark, I wish this train more empty.