the j train

the city was a burnt paper cutout

backed with morning fire

as i rumbled back westward

my stay was short

marked by rest that knew

less than hours

and a predawn celebration

of a better year yet unfolded

i emerged from the stale

warm belly of this great city

sleepwalked into times square detritus

and through rising basement air

to collect my next leg

you were asleep finding those hours

we lost to night

nestled within the chaos

of stepped flat rooftops that

each met the racket of the j

and that is where i left you

your neighborhood of infinite jewels

of constant change and noise

and all those pink coral sunsets

once below aristophanes said we

spend our lives searching for

our other half

sub urban

some eight hundred miles later

and new york is wide awake 

eight million plus one
equals 

eight million
and still class is given to sway

with a car door held on the subway

like some prehistoric reptilian thing

outstretched and half shroud in dew
manhattan lies with one eye open

knowing nothing of her 

tossed we are into neighborhood pools
to tread for ourselves each

as the first time

"I'll have what's on special" we'd say

after finding the washroom to clean

the salt from our shoes and

gloss from our eyes

walton's natural state

those from here 

pronounce it fate-ville

this town
built upon nickels and dimes

this land
it bleeds rust

when you cut it open

how i remember europe the first time

bullet trains at the underground

rumble german earth

and scream oily wind

through station made vacuums

and on schedule i arise in old paris

ocean grove

the inch plus of weightless white

fell since last night 

was brushed away with quiet

a black bristle reveal

of glass and steel coated

and lost to the memory of heat

woven in your turquoise beach hat