There is nothing lonelier than the subway train on Easter Sunday.
Contented moments of shopping bags forgotten,
seduced by vampire hangovers.
The Lord’s day fits so well with broken promises to stop –
‘For thine is the kingdom!’
Stop drinking, Stop the sins of the flesh.
I have always been disheartened by Sundays –
‘Pretty girl, what have you got to be so sad about?’
the gospel preacher probes.
Disheartened by this last day of weekend –
Back to work, Back to school.
So go to bed early & put away hedonistic excess.
The trains don’t run as often on Sundays. There is a higher concentration
of people WAITING, with gray pallor complexion, wearing their glasses because the eyes are burned red from the contact lenses, music deaf eardrums & nightclub ink stamps fresh on their wrists like a scar.