The Lime Green El Train

In the subway of lime green,
life is a speeding train,
the translucent trance
of a screeching machine,
the timeless phase
of a purple haze

Where the rats scurry,
the stray cats howl,
and transients sleep on benches—
a mother and child stand behind
the yellow line, and an old man
weeps for forgotten dreams

There is no other option,
so we lean back and wait,
for the next opportunity
to take us back home—
leaving the rat race
for a quiet two-bedroom apartment

We are on alert, looking back
through the dark tunnel,
the express train stopping at City Hall,
then over rooftops and store windows—
we see neighborhoods passing
like shooting stars in the night.