One Year to Life on the Grand Central Shuttle

If we hate the rush hour subways
who ride them every day
why hasn’t there been a New York City Subway Riot
some bloody rush-hour revolution
where a snarl
goes on from push to a shove
that does not stop
at the platform’s edge
the whining of automated trains
will drown out the screams
of our bloody and releasing testament
to a last chance or hope of change.

But hope is counter-revolutionary.
Pressure cooks
but we have not exploded
flowing in and out instead each day
like a half-digested mass
for a final stake impales our dreams
and watering down each trip’s fury
is the someday foolish hope
that at the next stop
some door will open for us
to fresh air and light and home.

When we realize how
much of us is spent
in rush hour subways
underground
no real exit
it will matter less
what token we pay
for change.