Most days I feel like I’m on a subway in New York City.
Every so often the lights flicker out.
And I’m stuck with strangers in the darkness.
Nothing feels more alone than being with twenty or so other adults who don’t know you and don’t care about you and don’t want to see whether or not you make it
But are just interested in making it out of the subway system themselves.
Sometimes it’s cold and sometimes it’s hot but in the end it doesn’t really matter
And when the temperatures mix, that’s when you know.
That it’s just a subway ride
And you’re still alone
And you can’t even smoke or listen to loud music to make the ride more bearable.
It’s just you and your headphones.
Until the blessed moment when the subway reaches 34 St/Penn Station and you blindly make your way through the dark to the door
And who knows if it’s bright out or more dark than the subway ride
It will just be the way it is.
And much like the lights on the subway
There is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.
© Chapin Langenheim, 2019