I see a man in front of me waiting to use the turnstile, I see his hand reach into his pocket to grab his MetroCard;
I see a metal fence, resembling those which occupy jail cells;
I see a group of musicians, two on guitar and one on the drums, making everyone’s day fill’d with a bit more music and a bit more joy;
I see a fight for a cause, being execut’d in a creative and thoughtful way, I see happy faces, who get to do what they love for a cause they support;
I see a security guard, uniform as dark as the night, standing as still as a tree;
I see a shar’d goal—to get from one destination to another that is out of walking distance;
In the subway that facilitates my everyday commute and the commute of countless others;
In the station that boasts millions of people like me, New Yorkers waiting for yet another delay’d train;
In the heat of the moment, my card is swip’d, just as the lady beside me has her purse swip’d;
In the background, I hear the arrival of my train;
In the busyness of the hour, I must push myself through the crowd and through the closing doors;
In the cramp’d train im stuck in, an odorous individual stands directly by my side;
In the situation, I recognize the uniqueness of New York;
I am under the ground but not underground, as the subway is no secret—it is the battery that keeps New York running.
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