Subway Rides & Serious Love to NYC

Let’s go catch a train,
Let’s you and me go,
Let’s you and me, Let’s go.

Down to the station of the metro,
like the one that Mr. Pound speaks of …

In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
� Ezra Pound

Except let’s not be dying
or be reminded of death.
Our immortality cannot yet be broken.
We are more alive than ever.
Just like the city.

Let’s only stop to briefly tie our oxfords.
Or did we wear our boots that day?
Your brother his white sneakers.

Let’s let the white laced feet guide us through the tunnels.
He knows his city well.
The city that I am only borrowing for a few days.
Thank you for bringing me back.
You know I love it.

Let’s only stop to check our patterned dresses.
You in  zebra print and I in some lace.

Let’s only stop to untangle our beads.
They are piled high on our necks.
Of course.

Or better, let’s just check it all 
in the reflection of a train window.
All good.

This is not Paris, it is New York.
Pound spoke of Paris – his station of the metro,
was indeed Paris, I believe?

We speak of Paris while we walk. How we love it. 
We speak of New York City. How we love it.
We people watch and pick our favorite neighborhoods.

Let’s go back soon.
Let’s go to Paris too. 

Let’s wear more oxfords – even our boots.
Beads to decorate our necks.
Patterned scarves.
I’ll wear my red lipstick.
You wear your cat eyes.

Let’s collect more images of faces in the crowd.
Let’s remember what we can 
and collect it all forever in our pockets.

Let’s go catch a train,
Let’s you and me go,
Let’s you and me, Let’s go.
Let’s make sure Nick comes and 
that he brings his jokes.

Forget the cab.
He might not stop.

Down to the station of the metro…
or to the station of the subway, you’ll say.

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