August underground where the rats have more room than we do
pressed against strangers in this rolling coffin of aluminum and sweat
her shoulder blade grinds into my ribs like punishment for existing
the air tastes like burnt rubber and someone’s morning regret
metal screeches against metal while we pretend we’re not animals
crammed in this cylinder hurtling through intestines of the city
every breath is borrowed from the mouth of whoever’s closest
and I’m counting stops like a prisoner scratching days on concrete walls
we’re all melting into each other in this hell on rails
skin to skin with people we’d cross the street to avoid
the heat makes honest creatures of us all
stripping away the pretense that we’re civilized
just meat and moisture and the stink of desperation
riding this fever dream to wherever we’re going
the conductor mumbles stations through speakers that gave up years ago
some businessman’s cologne mingles with homeless piss and hot garbage
a woman’s hair sticks to my cheek and neither of us can move to fix it
we’ve surrendered to proximity and the democracy of discomfort
teenagers laugh too loud about nothing while old men stare at phones
everyone’s shirt has mapped their torso in darker shades of damp
the train lurches and we all sway like kelp in dirty water
touching and not touching and touching again without permission
someone faints near the back and nobody has space to help them
we just compress tighter like trash in a compactor
my shirt clings like it’s trying to become part of me
and I’m thinking about cold beer and air conditioning and death
not in that order but close enough
the doors open at Union Square and nobody gets off
more bodies shove in like this is some kind of joke about capacity
a kid cries and his mother looks ready to join him
we’ve all made terrible choices that led us to this moment
breathing recycled exhalations in this mobile sauna
when I finally surface at my stop I gasp like I’ve been drowning
which maybe I have been in this soup of human humidity
the platform feels like freedom even though it’s ninety-eight degrees
and I wonder if anyone else feels baptized by that shared misery
or if they’ve already forgotten we were that intimate with strangers
just another commute in the city that teaches you how little space you really need
how much violation you can tolerate
how we’re all just bodies trying to get somewhere else