Submitted Date 04/21/2020

I sit at the back of the MTA bus

My breath is mute


A tapestry unfolds

I dont feel like getting up

Nor do my legs have the pulse to

What's outside on the streets

Such a paradox, both a invitation and a dismissal

But sprinkled here and there

Beholds the magic that gets lost and tainted

In premium sensationalism from a newspaper

Begging users online for a dollar a month


The short Hispanic lady with her stand selling icees

The day trader on Wall Street on an off-day

The groups of old Chinese or black guys playing chess, checkers or dominoes

The street performers and train-bound solicitors not scared about making rent

Trying to hustle you, pitch you to the latest pyramid scheme.

The tapestry that unfolds

Shapes up to be like a pyramid


It doesnt take coffee-diluted eyes and a nicotine patch to see it

Ask the franchise owner of the movie theater

Or the pizza restaurant going 30 years strong

That's going out of business

Ask the lawyer

An associate at a top-notch firm

Who's struggling with debt like the rest of us


Having privilege is a privilege

We all do what we need to, or what we should try to do.

It doesn't take thrown out lottery tickets to see that.


The embrace of congestion is not needed

I see all of that at the back of the bus

Rain or shine

It doesn't take commitment


I'm here for the ride



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