under the pavement.

My head is two feet lower than the ceiling
the ceiling two feet higher than my head
My fingers glaze the metal grating
the grating which I pinch to keep my stead
The train is rolling and is screeching
screeching and jostling at union square
The standing strangers are exchanging
exchanging places as they squeeze to exit there
I'm checked-out, weary, and I'm wasting
wasting minutes in the mindless rush of transit
Aware and independent and enveloped
enveloped in the city, as one who stands it