Subway Podabble

We stand.
Here.
Underground.
in a tunnel-world
full of rushing sounds
and downcast looks
sweltering heat
though a cold wind
cools the flipside streets
metal
above and below
Are there really centipedes and worms
outside these walls?
The doors slide apart
when the train arrives
pushing and parting the air
with its flat nose
None follow subway etiquette here
There is colliding and scuffling
there are backpacks that kiss briefcases
embarrassed stray limbs
and stubbed toes
Sweaty hands grip silver poles
and cracked plastic ceiling loops
breath swirls and settles
is held in suspension
anticipating the rolling gait
that carries us on to the next stop
this stop, that stop
there is a lingo
a rhythm
a language
in this odd human-filled space
there are patterns and sequences, but none
pause to divine them
Bodies sway side by side
in sleepy
uncomfortable
bored singular silences
A smile here...
murmur there
otherwise nothing
as neon lights skim past
The universe is so large
certainly this is a part of it
speeding through time and space
to the tune of a hundred flurried heartbeats
The doors schifff open again
and the expanding camaraderie vaccummes back into itself
Where do we go from here?