Crystalline fingertips
tap cacophonous symphonies
against the blue plastic seat
as I anticipate the neon blip
of my subway stop across the screen.
It’s about nine when I board,
shoulder aches and exasperation
in tow.
The train starts off full
but quickly drains
like the glass of wine
awaiting my arrival.
I slip greedily onto
the bench, stumble
to situate my earbuds
and silence one of the five
senses of nyc
while the other four gently
nudge me now and again.
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About the Creator
Skye Vaillancourt
twenty-something year old writer, painter, yogi, goddess.
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