Pavement polka dotted with gum and melted rubber
I descend into the tunnels
And remember my quack
Turn your rabbit hole
Into a pothole.
A woman in the station tells me she is going to jump
So I hold on tight and wait to die.
The train comes and a man in a red shirt grabs her
I tell him, this is my train, and he nods
In the direction of the open doors.
The rest of my ride I stare
At one page in my book
And wonder if she was bluffing.