Thousands ride the subway system in Boston every day. They’re anonymous people, right? . That idea is the Muse for this poetic story.
End of the Line
Caught in depression’s dark place
she hopped a no-name train
out-bound from her no-where life.
Metal wheels grate steel on steel
vibrations scream to emptiness
emotions scraped raw, again and again.
Unseeing people clamber on and off
cellphones plastered to deaf ears
unknowingly define her nothingness.
Surround sound automatically
projects periodic hypnotic names
leads lucid riders home, town by town.
Destiny speaks the loudest words
cut into her ragged soul
Last stop, Wonderland.
I can imagine her…
Lovely.
annmarie
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This one is really moving. I love the contrast of the last line as well. Great way to finish.
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So glad you meandered by! Love getting your comment – means a lot! Coincidently, am waiting to catch the train to Andover now. Will definitely smile at those I pass by 🙂
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All aboard and out we go! The feel of the train under our feet is felt from stop to stop. The definition of the riders is summed up so well in how, many travel each day on the tracks. Priceless, the way you captured the cell phones in a vivid snapshot of reality. And of course, everybody loves a happy ending. What a lovely ride, and the price was simply beyond affordable given the conductor both drove the train and orchestrated the symphony players at the same time. Nicely penned!
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So glad you enjoyed it! Funny you should mention the conductor who drove the train and orchestrated the symphony players at the same time — I actually had a stanza in the poem’s first, second, third etc drafts — and ultimately took it out — it went something like
Navy blue man clicks ticket after ticket
pacing animal or shepherd, back and forth
conducts this circus cage on wheels.
Poetic minds think alike! 🙂
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Fabulous. We can be our own worst critics :o)
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