subway thoughts below the pigeons - 0400 hours

chain purse head jostled and bumped
slumping speedy by cement block
after cement block after cement block-

I get off

thinking about the warm smell of cooked peaches
cinnamon and clove
egyptian cotton and the way those little hairs
stretch up reach out
feather touch twitch at my elbow
the window surfaces again
cement block after cement block after-
blinking lazy eyelids drooping femur over plastic seat

my pocket full of quarters
rusted or shiny all of them dirty
quarters damnit
like a beggar with a bowl but instead of pleading
I pander them like plague

my pockets are full of quarters
they stack and pile and pour
one for every motherfucker with two tongues
and two each  for those with none

no one’s listening
so I slip a quarter through my teeth
and swallow twenty-three cents
the other two fall from my lip
following the gaze of the overhead lights
they slide down my shirt
I think they’ll stay there but
my thoughts don’t chug like a train
all the cars would crash and topple
my thoughts are baked apples pitched from afar
bat the right ones and
ripe fruit will split forth no turning signal
cement block after cement block after-
noisy my thoughts
choo choo and honk at the drop of a