money train.

with each well calculated stride
comes the clean, even metronome click
of heavy step to pavement.
as the city rages,
from crescendos in the crowded ghettos
to the hum of defeated souls
sinking under neon lights,
i am consumed only by the subway roars
challenging the foreign made
plastic chariots
that whip hair across my wind beaten cheeks
(these gentle disturbances, i confuse
for his movements throughout the house).
asphalt doesn't creak,
fogged voices carry in the breeze,
tiny flecks of insatiable laughter,
an off key car horn,
over exercised sirens--
a cacophony of nuisances
so desperate to invade my senses for this
sepia-tinged walk home to where four
dirty white walls await a dry mouth
full of arid conversation.