.

The Approach

As she leaves the house,
She spies a little boy on a tricycle.
He sways and jerks forward.
His mother is nowhere to be seen.

Looking every which way,
She makes sure the street is deserted,
So that nobody will see her
As she does not help him find his way.

Five blocks away, she rakes
Through her purse for some slips of paper,
Not so that the ticket master may eat dinner,
But so that she may gain access to the platform.

It is like an exclusive nightclub,
In which only those worthless souls
Who have the right combination of everything
May reach the thick yellow line,
Where a never-ending stretch of track
Waits.

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Step Back