Onto the train with gum-
stamped floors, poles
polished in sweat then
finished off with boogers-
all forgotten when the
echoing sound of wheel to
track played, introduced

passengers to the
African-American figure.

Eyes of ice, faces
transitioned into broad
backs, but something
in me told me to leave
down the second ear of my
headphones.

Psychiatric center,
Free,
Unguided
was how she described her life.

Apples and other
sources of health
appeared in unison,
circulated, danced in the
cloudiness of that unpurifiable
air. But the heart of it…

If I had ripped out
the mint in my pocket, unwrapped
and revealed its yum factor,
I wonder, would the
already soaked lashes on my
brown lids have dripped
away at the site of her eyes-
surprise-wide, her
nostrils flaring at its scent,
mouth stretching itself open,
showing her brittle, brown
teeth as they cracked against
the thick of nearly nothing.