i miss the rush
the edge
the anonymous feel
amoungst a thousand brushes
strangers arms, legs, glances
the subway
its heat,
that screeching about a turn
music of shuffling feet
the pushing through to board
surfing with a hundred others
lights flickering
doors opening, doors closing
others off to some place
and a single soul managing to read his newspaper
what is it to achieve that solitary shell
unaffected, focused, processing
internally measuring...1 stop...2 stops....stop 5
naturally folds the paper, two steps
exiting
i miss the rush
i miss the direct, in your face--presence
the brutal honesty of being here right now
its brilliance, its sorrows
the rush in arriving at both those destinations simultaneously